


Lessons In Chemistry

by Brenda



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Artist Steve Rogers, Blow Jobs, Boys Who Can't Communicate Except Through Sex, Bucky Barnes & Peggy Carter Friendship, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Dom/sub Undertones, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Language Kink, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Past Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sam/Rhodey Relationship, Science Nerd Bucky Barnes, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 09:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11871213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda
Summary: Bucky Barnes is having a rough senior year of college: his girlfriend of two years just dumped him for being too boring, he's drowning in lab work and classes and assignments, sleep and free time are a distant memory, and all his friends seem to want to talk about is how he needs to out of his comfort zone.But then his old high school buddy, Steve Rogers, drops back into his life, and suddenly classwork and studying and getting into a great grad school are the last things on his mind.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Stucky Big Bang 2017](https://thestuckylibrary-bigbang.tumblr.com) \- my amazing artist was [Sula](https://sulasaferoom.tumblr.com/) and their art is embedded in the fic and [on Tumblr for reblogging](https://sulasaferoom.tumblr.com/post/164463469261/here-is-the-art-for-the-amazing-fic-lessons-in). :)

It wasn't even noon yet, and already Bucky could tell this was just going to be one of _those_ days. The type where pulling up the covers and hiding out from the rest of the world for the rest of his life sounded like the best idea ever. Or maybe moving to some remote mountaintop cabin and becoming a hermit who only lived on berries and nuts and wild fungi or something. 

It was an honest to God sin that certain days didn't come with a reset button.

Whoever it was that said college was the best time of one's life had clearly never stepped foot on an actual campus or taken any classes that were above remedial. Or had a morning like Bucky's. And it was only fucking Monday, too. Jesus.

"I'm going to blow off Eco Geology today," he announced, as he slid into the booth seat opposite Rhodey and Sam at the off-campus Varsity. It looked like half the student body wanted burgers for lunch, judging by the noise levels and the serpentine line at the counter. Which, crowds like this were pretty much Bucky's idea of hell, but he had some time to kill before his class (provided he went), and he knew Rhodey and Sam would be scarfing down a nutritious lunch of onion rings, Frosty Oranges, and double chili cheese burgers. Everything a growing boy needed, as Sam was fond of saying.

Sam reached across the table to put his hand on Bucky's forehead. "Who are you and what have you done with my best friend? You never skip. You went to school the morning you broke your arm in the 9th grade because we had a quiz in algebra you didn't want to miss."

Bucky shrugged out of the touch. "Yeah, well, maybe I'm turning over a new leaf."

Sam pushed his extra serving of onion rings to the middle of the table so Bucky could get at them, because he was an awesome friend like that. "Don't you have a lab today?"

"I don't actually need it for my final grade. I was just doing it for the extra credit." He ignored the pang in his chest at the thought of not being there, even if it was for a lab he didn't need. Fuck it, maybe he would go to the class, anyway. Wasn't like he had anything better to do with his time. "Besides, I'm having kind of a bad day."

Rhodey, Sam's boyfriend and all around star student, athlete, and great guy, gave him a sympathetic look. Despite possessing the slyest sense of humor known to man, he sometimes tended to take things even more seriously than Bucky did. Then again, if Bucky had a BFF like Tony Stark, he'd be more uptight, too, if only to try to level out Tony's manic brand of crazy. Although, Bucky's own two BFFs were pretty far out there on the social and crazy scale, so maybe taking things too seriously was a defense mechanism.

"Bad day meaning...what, exactly?" Rhodey asked.

"Yeah, what's going on?" Sam asked, pasting on his most Serious Mess-With-My-Friends-Mess-With-Me Face. "Who do we need to harass?"

"No one. Well, I mean...Nat just broke up with me, but, I don't think harassing her about it will help." Best to get it out in the open – sort of like cauterizing a wound. Besides, Bucky guessed he needed to start getting used to it. She'd seemed pretty serious about it.

Sam blinked owlishly. Made those soulful brown eyes of his look even bigger. "Do what?"

Bucky finished swallowing his bite of onion ring before it lodged in his throat. "Yeah, I mean, I was on my way out of Calc and she's all waiting for me just outside class, and I thought she, I dunno, wanted to grab lunch, but she was all, I think we should see other people and expand our horizons, she thinks things are getting stale, it's not you it's me blah blah, I don't even know, really, I was kinda in shock, I guess."

Even saying all of it out loud wasn't helping to make it seem real.

"Seriously, Nat dumped you? Like, you're not fucking with me, dumped you?" At Bucky's affirmative nod, Sam let out a low whistle. "Like, for real, just now?"

"Yeah, she wants to get together tonight to, I don't know, make sure we're on the same page, or whatever, but yeah. I'm officially a single man, go team me." Which, maybe he _was_ still in shock or whatever, but he wasn't...upset or mad? He couldn't explain it. But, like, it felt like his heart was just encased in ice or was behind a thick wall or something. He couldn't feel a thing. He'd be more worried about it if he could summon the energy.

"Ho-ly fuck." Sam slumped against Rhodey's side. "That's nuts. I mean, you two've been together since end of freshman year."

"And you're the one who set me up with her, so thanks for that."

"Setting you up with Nat was Peggy's idea, not mine," Sam said. "I refuse to take the blame."

"Yes, but you didn't talk me out of asking her out, either."

"Uh huh, because me talking you out of anything has ever worked."

"I'm still hung up on Nat calling you stale," Rhodey said, interrupting them before they could start bickering even worse than they normally did. "That's just, like, rude, man." 

"I dunno, she has a point there," Sam said, immediately ducking out of the way of Bucky's swipe. "I mean, I love you, brother, but your idea of sexy talk is the neutron-to-proton ratio of granite."

" _Isotopes_ , lame ass, and it's a helluva lot more exciting than modern economic theory." It still freaked Bucky out that his crazy-ass, animal-rights-activist, easy-going best friend was a total economic and financial protégé. He'd always thought Sam would go into vet school or work for some non-profit focused on wildlife preservation or something. Just the idea of him in a suit or sitting behind a desk was laughable. 

"Besides, everyone's boring compared to you and Peggy, babe," Rhodey pointed out, bussing a kiss to Sam's cheek. 

Sam just smiled, wide and gap-toothed and pleased as punch. "What can I say, Pegs and me were put on this earth to give all y'all lesser mortals something to aspire to."

Bucky snorted. "More like you were both put here as a warning sign for the rest of us."

Peggy, who Bucky and Sam had known since third grade, was a theatre major and saw herself as some sort of reincarnation of the great screen sirens of the 1940s. All ballsy attitude and razor-sharp wit and an adventurous spirit. Bucky swore she lived to drive him insane sometimes, but there still wasn't a single person he would rather have at his back. 

"Speaking of, does Pegs know?" Sam asked. "About you and Nat?"

"Jeez, I don't know, probably, by now. You know she hears everything as soon as it happens." And he'd no doubt be hearing it from her that he hadn't told her the news himself, but he couldn't summon the energy to care about that, either. "Let's just, I dunno, change the subject," he said, trying to steer the conversation to anything that wasn't his pathetic excuse for a life.

Sam took a noisy sip of his Frosty Orange. "This should perk you up. You hear the news about Steve yet?"

"Uh…Steve...?" Bucky prompted, motioning for Sam to elaborate. There were a lot of Steves on campus.

"Yeah, _Steve_." When Bucky just gave him another blank look, because that was clearly not helpful in the slightest, seriously, Sam sighed. "From high school?" 

Bucky's eyes widened. "Steve _Rogers_?" Not a name he ever thought he'd say again. Not after the way Steve had up and disappeared on everyone – on _Bucky_ – after graduation day.

"The one and only," Sam confirmed. "Apparently, he's here now."

Wait, he was _what_? "Uh, you mean, here in Athens or...?"

"Here at UGA," Sam corrected. "Enrolled last week, started classes today."

Bucky blinked again. Enrolled last _week_. Which meant Steve had been around on campus for days and Bucky hadn't known. Which, it wasn't like Bucky was still pissed off or anything – it had been well over three years, he was over the hurt, or had been steadily working towards it – but, a little heads up, maybe, that would have been nice.

Well, whatever. Like he said, he was over it. 

"How'd you hear about this?" he asked, struggling for some semblance of nonchalance and failing miserably. There was a reason Peggy was the theatre major and he was the scientist.

"Peggy." Sam shrugged, then draped his arms across the back of the booth, lightly trailing his fingers across Rhodey's shoulder. "How else?"

"Figures," Bucky muttered, and stared down at the remaining onion rings, no longer hungry. 

"Be cool to finally meet the guy," Rhodey said, rubbing his fingers across his chin. "The Man, the Myth, the Captain of your high school clique."

"Yeah, I haven't seen him yet myself, but Peggy says he's in a bunch of freshman and elective classes," Sam said. "Including yours and Rhodey's art class, so you'll probably see him tomorrow."

"Wait what??" Bucky said, sitting upright. "Steve graduated _with_ us. Why the hell is he taking freshman classes?" He resolutely ignored the news that he now had a class with the guy. 

"I dunno, that's what Peggy says. Apparently, he really did drop off the grid after grad, and like, just resurfaced back into the world, and wants to finally get his degree." Sam grabbed his Frosty Orange again. "You can ask him about it when you see him, man." 

Bucky couldn't even conceive of just...waiting until he was almost twenty-two to start college. He felt like his entire life had been mapped out since, fuck, kindergarten or something. Graduate with honors in high school, do a summer internship, then four years at a top college in his field with more summer internships, graduate with honors there too, then get his master's degree at another top school, then accept the best job offer on the table and settle into his career. Maybe ease into teaching after he'd written a few papers and made a name for himself among his peer group.

Who just fucked off like that without anything to show for it?

"Or," Sam continued, "you can get the scoop from Peggy yourself, if you wanted."

"Uh no. She'd just grill me about Nat and I don't know what to tell her yet." He wasn't even sure what to tell himself about what had happened, or how he should feel about it.

Still. Steve fucking Rogers back among the living.

Just when Bucky thought his day couldn't get more surreal.

***

After his lab (yes, he went, shut up) and baseball practice and running through all of the eye-hand coordination drills ever, he barely had time to get back to his room and take a quick shower before there was a knock at the door. Nat smiled up at him, apologetic, and lifted a hand. "You gonna let me in or are we just gonna stand here in awkward silence?"

Bucky sighed and stepped aside so she could step into his miniscule living area. "I don't even know why we're having this conversation," he said. "You made your position pretty clear earlier today."

"Because I wanted to make sure you're okay." She sat at his desk chair, and swiveled to face him. "I know how you get when your routine is disrupted."

"My _routine_?" He leaned against the door, shoulders pressing against the wood in a conscious effort to keep from pacing around the room. "My _routine_ is going to fucking Starbucks to study on Thursdays. You're my _girlfriend_. Were, whatever," he corrected, waving his hand. "You're not some chore I have to do, Jesus Christ, Nat."

"Fine, that's a poor word choice, but we were taking each other for granted and you know it."

"I thought we were happy." He blinked back the sudden surge of tears. Talk about terrible timing. He wasn't ready for the walls to start crumbling, not until he was alone. "But I guess I was wrong."

"We were, okay, I just...I'm not ready for...to tie myself down to anyone," she said, turning beseeching eyes towards him. Once (like, yesterday, even, how did that already seem like another lifetime), that look would have had Bucky melting like butter on a summer sidewalk. But now, it just left him cold. She had no right coming here, trying to smooth things over just to salve her conscience. 

"Funny, I don't remember proposing."

"No," Nat conceded, "but you were heading in that direction."

"You don't know that." He hated the wobble in his voice almost as much as he hated that they were even talking at all. "And honestly, this just sounds like you making up excuses for breaking up with me, which, you know what, it's okay. You don't want to be with me, that's fine" – it kinda wasn't – "but don't feed me some bullshit excuse to make yourself feel better."

She reared back, stung. "That's not fair."

"Well, neither was what you did, so I guess that makes us even." He fumbled for the handle and wrenched the door open. "I think you should go now."

She stood, looking at him still all sad and serious, like he was supposed to care. "This...you know this isn't about you –"

"Yeah, just, stop, okay. I really don't need the, it's not you, it's me speech." He pointed at the open door. "I'll...I'll, I dunno, see you around, okay." They still had friends in common, so it wasn't like he could avoid her forever. Thank fucking God they were on completely different tracks, academically-speaking, because he wasn't sure he was up to dealing with her in a classroom. Maybe one day he could be all mature adult about it, but not now. And not for a long while, probably.

She looked like she wanted to say something else, but then changed her mind. "Yeah, okay, I'll see you around," she said, and walked out.

Bucky waited until her footsteps faded down the hall before he shut the door and sank to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees, eyes burning with tears he refused to shed.

***


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky wasn't even sure why he was taking an Art Studies class to begin with, other than he and Rhodey both needed an arts elective and Bucky thought it might be nice to get to know Sam's boyfriend away from Sam's over-sized sphere of influence. It wasn't like Bucky was especially artsy or arts-minded or even creative, but it was important to be well-rounded (so Peggy was always telling him), and it wasn't like Professor Luis was some sort of strict by-the-book teacher or anything.

Quite the opposite, really. The ARTS, all caps, had always been Peggy's and Steve's calling, not Bucky's. Which, speaking of, this was probably going to be the most awkward conversation in the history of ever, even worse than last night's trainwreck of a talk with Nat (which Bucky was resolutely _not_ thinking about), but Bucky was a pretty big fan of getting the unpleasant shit out of the way as soon as possible. So here he was, early to class (which in and of itself wasn't weird, but it was for a class where the professor didn't even believe in taking attendance), just so he'd be in position when Steve walked through the door.

It never occurred to him that Steve would have beaten him there.

Bucky came to a halt just inside the room and stared, taking in his first glimpse of Steve in over three years. Steve's hair was still thick and blond, but now shaved on the sides, and with a floppy uppercut that fell across his forehead and down across one ear. He was a little taller as well, and had filled out some – and the added muscle looked good on him. No longer skinny as the proverbial beanpole, but sleek and lean, more panther than cheetah. Still dangerous as fuck to Bucky's equilibrium, though. That didn't seem to have changed a bit.

His t-shirt and jeans were spattered with paint, and his feet were, oddly enough, bare. Then again, when the professor of the class thought shoes were optional, it wasn't like it was a stretch to imagine some of the students taking up the mantle, so to speak. Although Bucky had no idea how Steve knew that since this was his first time in the class.

Steve was copying a drawing onto a canvas, one of his brushes firmly wedged between his teeth as he quickly traced an outline with sure strokes of his pencil. His wrist and fingers moved in a fluid ballet of movement, breathing life to its creation. Bucky's eyes were riveted to the canvas, as the woman took form right before his eyes, from her artfully debauched hair to the dainty arch of her feet. He'd always been a little bit in awe of Steve's ability to make lines on paper come to such vivid life. He couldn't imagine what it was like to have all of those images in his head, competing with each other to be the first drawn. But then, even back when they'd been super tight, there was always this indefinable mystery around Steve – some nebulous _spark_ that set him apart from the pack and made him burn brighter than anyone Bucky'd ever met.

Bucky'd never understood it, but he'd always been drawn to it. And that, apparently, _also_ hadn't changed a bit.

He lifted his hand in an aborted wave. It took him two tries to get words to form. "Uh, hey Steve."

Steve turned from the painting, wiping his hands on a cloth as he popped the brush out from his teeth. His eyes were still vividly blue, wide and expressive. Bright flecks of red were smeared across his forehead and across sharp cheekbones. "James Buchanan Barnes," he drawled, like he was savoring Bucky's name on his tongue. Then his lips parted in a crooked grin, showing off the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes. You look...really good."

"Uh, yeah, thanks," Bucky replied, fighting back a blush, even though he had no idea why.

Good? Like, seriously? He wondered if Steve had gotten into Professor Luis' pot brownie stash, because there was nothing all that special about his looks, and there never had been. He still had the same dark brown mop of hair on his head, in desperate need of a cut. Still had the same runner's build, with his bird calves and gangly limbs he never seemed to know how to work except sometimes on a ballfield. Still had the same deep-set eyes and square jawline, although he'd grown into that a little bit. Nothing at all to write home about. 

"You know, I'd almost forgotten how blue your eyes were," Steve continued, tilting his head and studying Bucky the way Bucky imagined a panther studied a gazelle before pouncing. 

"Uh...they're, uh, the same color they'd always been?" He hurriedly gestured at the canvas, desperate to change the subject. "She's really beautiful," he commented. He felt like he should be in church or an art gallery or something.

"She's getting there." Steve was still staring at him like he could see down to the depths of Bucky's soul. Something he used to do a lot of back in the day. It was just as disconcertingly hot now as it was back then. "Pegs tells me you'll be graduating with honors, so I guess not much has changed."

"One doesn't just half-ass their way into the University of Texas geo-science graduate program." He felt like he should be apologizing, but he had no idea why. He'd worked his ass off for his GPA and the opportunities he had. "What about you?"

Where did you run off to? he wanted to ask. Why did you never call or text or even send a fucking postcard? Did our friendship – did the shimmering promise of the more we were just starting to explore – mean so little to you?

He hated himself that the answer was so important to him.

"A little of this, little of that. Look, Buck –" Steve started, but then Rhodey came strolling into the room, a wide smile on that handsome, angular face.

"Hey, man," he said, clapping Bucky on the back, then let out a low whistle when he got a look at Steve's canvas. "That's fucking incredible. What'd you do to the reds to get them to shimmer like that?"

Steve just pointed at the palette, without looking away from Bucky. "Silver grounding."

"Silver," Rhodey repeated, thoughtfully, then nodded. "That's fantastic."

"Thanks."

Rhodey stuck out a hand. "James Rhodes, call me Rhodey, everyone does. You must be Steve Rogers."

"So my birth certificate says." Steve finally tore his gaze away from Bucky to shake the proffered hand, his smile now wide and sunny and just this side of mischievous. "Peggy told me Sam had snagged a hottie. I think she undersold you."

Bucky blinked, eyes widening, as Rhodey's cheeks actually pinkened. It was adorable, if Bucky didn't think too much about _why_. "Yeah, well, he's not so bad himself," Rhodey replied. "And neither are you. Taller than I thought you'd be."

Steve snorted. "Yeah, I was pretty short in high school. Not that I'm _tall_ now, but at least I don't feel like I qualify for dwarf status."

"I thought you were fine in high school," Bucky blurted out, then winced. Not even five minutes back in Steve's presence, and his big fucking mouth was getting him into trouble. What was _wrong_ with him?

But Steve just shrugged, and brushed his hair from his forehead, the gesture as familiar as it was weird. "Thanks."

"Anyway, we'll let you get back to your genius, but we've got a study group, meets in our commons room on Tuesday nights if you were interested. Which, y'know, tonight."

Bucky surreptitiously kicked Rhodey's ankle, because what the _hell_ was Rhodey doing??? He was in no way prepared to be around Steve in a non-class setting yet. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Steve was _here_ , in the flesh, alive and whole and as vibrant as ever, seemingly having survived just fine without...well, without any of them. 

Steve just smiled again at Rhodey. "Thanks. I'll think about it."

"Yeah, um, around seven," Bucky added, surprising himself. What the _fuck_ was up with his brain? It wasn't like he wanted to be friends with Steve again or anything. "Rooker Hall, fireside lounge."

"East Campus," Rhodey supplied. "If we're not down yet, mine and Sam's room is on the third floor, just come up and knock."

"Sure. It's...good to see you, Buck," Steve said, and with another long look Bucky's way, turned back to his canvas. He switched to the brush, filling in the shades of her dress with deft strokes of crimson.

Bucky wasn't sure exactly what he'd been expecting from his first conversation with Steve in so long, but it wasn't this. He felt...adrift, kinda. Like he'd gotten something he really wanted, but was still disappointed, somehow.

He wandered over to his usual table, and sank onto one of the chairs, dropping his forehead on the surface. "Seriously, why the hell am I doing this again?" he asked, voice muffled. 

"Because you needed an arts elective?" 

"Not what I meant," Bucky started, but Rhodey wasn't paying attention.

He tossed a wet chunk of clay onto the table. "And," he continued, "since you like good grades, and since clay is one of your specialties –"

"Clay _mineralogy_ , which is not the same thing, I swear, you're as bad as your boyfriend –"

"– you should come up with something resembling a vaguely discernible shape by the end of class."

"Provided Professor Luis even shows up today," Bucky grumbled, but picked up the clay. Rhodey was right – he was here, may as well try to figure out something to do with it. 

"Well, you know what he says about predictability..."

"It's a wonder he gets paid, man. I mean, can you imagine not showing up for work?"

"Professor Fury told me once he thinks that Professor Luis keeps the board of regents in pot, so they overlook a lot of his eccentricities."

"He really told you that?"

Rhodey nodded. "I mean, it makes as much sense as anything."

Bucky wet his hands in the nearby water dish and pressed his thumbs in the clay, smoothing the ragged edges. It still didn't look like much, and the clay certainly didn't resemble anything that he studied in his geology classes, but Professor Luis was big on the students _listening_ to the canvas, whatever that canvas might happen to be. Bucky thought he was probably doing it wrong or he was art-deaf or something, but he gamely kept trying. 

He glanced around the room to see what everyone else was doing, and his gaze snagged on Steve yet again. Who looked completely in his element. His profile was serene, peaceful, as he mixed colors and layered them on the canvas. Seriously, what must it be like to have that sort of innate creative talent? That ability to coax shape and color and life from oil or chalk or pencils or whatever. Bucky couldn't even draw stick figures.

Fingers snapped in front of his face. "You still with us?" Rhodey asked, with a smirk.

Bucky tore his eyes away from Steve. "Yeah, what's up?" 

"I said, I'm gonna go up front and do my thing," Rhodey said, jerking his thumb at the front of the room, where a small dais was set up, and a few students were patiently waiting at their easels. Rhodey'd spent the last few classes volunteering as a nude model, probably because he was an exhibitionist, not that Bucky was judging. But there was a reason Rhodey and Sam were together, and the no shame thing was a pretty big factor.

Bucky snorted a laugh and pressed his thumbs deeper into the clay. "I'll make sure to avert my maiden eyes from your delicate bits."

"Such a prude," Rhodey lamented, already stripping off his shirt as he walked away.

Bucky gave half a thought to shouting after him, but thought better of it. Instead, he bent back to work on his lump. Maybe if he concentrated, he could make an ashtray or vase or something. It wouldn't be sexy, but sexy was highly overrated.

***

Bucky showed up at precisely 7pm to their usual study table right in front of the fireplace at Fireplace Lounge, and dumped his backpack on the wood with a frustrated thump. "I got a fucking B on my Calc quiz."

Sam looked up from his stack of books and laptop. "Wait, that's a thing that happens? Are you legally allowed to get less than an A-minus on anything?"

"Pretty sure that's headline news," Wanda added, sitting to Sam's left. She was majoring in journalism and was the editor of R&B, the campus paper.

Tony, Rhodey's platonic soulmate, and, like Rhodey, majoring in engineering, folded his arms over his chest as he tipped his chair back on two legs. "Need me to hack into the system and change your grades? Anything for a friend."

"Y'all are a fucking riot, truly." Bucky dropped into the seat across from Tony and crossed his arms. He wasn't pouting, alright, he was just...disappointed. "Where are Pegs and Rhodey?"

Sam pointed at the row of vending machines at the other end of the room. "My boy's buying us all some study snacks, and Peggy's in tech rehearsals this week, which you'd know already if you weren't avoiding her like the coward you are."

"I'm not avoiding her," Bucky lied.

Wanda looked back up from her dog-eared textbook. "Why are you avoiding Peggy?" 

Bucky groaned. "I'm not avoiding her, alright, I just...don't know what to say to her."

"Did something happen between you two again?" Tony asked, twirling his mechanical pencil between his fingers. "Please tell me there's a sex tape this time." 

"They don't know, do they," Sam said, giving Bucky his best disappointed look.

"Look, I just..." Bucky sighed, long and annoyed at himself. Sam was right, he was being a total coward about this. This was his study group. These were his friends. And they were all going to figure it out in about ten minutes when Natasha failed to show up and sit next to him, all snuggling under his arm like she normally did. At least, yeesh, he hoped she wouldn't show up. That would be...yeah, no, he wasn't remotely ready for that level of awkward. 

"Nat broke up with me," he finally said. "There, now it's out in the open, happy?"

"Aw, man, that's...I'm sorry," Wanda offered, laying a sympathetic hand over his.

"Rough break, dude," Tony added, and he even sounded sincere for once.

"Yeah, well, it's done, so..."

"You really do need to talk to Peggy before she finds you and beats your ass with one of her stilettos," Sam said, then his face broke into a shit-eating grin. "Steve Rogers, as I live and breathe!"

Bucky whirled around in his seat as Sam jumped up and tackle-hugged a very surprised-looking Steve. Who was still clutching his backpack in one hand and shooting Bucky a comically panicked look over Sam's shoulder. Bucky just shrugged and gestured in a _Sam's still an octopus what can you do_ motion.

Sam gave Steve another hard thump, then stepped back. "Looking good, my man, looking real good."

"Yeah, you too. It's been a minute." Steve swept his hair from his forehead. "Hey, Buck."

 _Buck_ again. Like no time at all had passed since grad. Like Steve hadn't disappeared without a trace, and everything was peachy keen between them. Which, fuck, maybe it was actually peachy, and maybe Bucky was acting like an idiot, expecting that Steve should have kept them in the loop on his whereabouts. Certainly Sam didn't seem to mind that one of his closest friends had dropped off the face of the planet for over three years.

But then, Sam also hadn't spent the last month before grad having a stupid amount of sex with Steve, either. Which Bucky was _really_ not thinking about; he was fine, he was cool. He'd had a long time to get over it. Plenty of people lost touch with their high school flings or whatever and managed to live long, productive lives.

"Hey, man," he said, before the silence got too uncomfortable. "You joining us?"

Steve tightened his hold on his backpack strap, his look wary. "Uh, yeah, if that's still cool."

Bucky violently wished Peggy was with them even as he nodded. "Knock yourself out."

Steve took the seat next to Bucky, scooting slightly too close for Bucky's comfort level, and smiled at Tony and Wanda. "Hi, I'm Steve."

"Oh Captain my Captain Steve Rogers?" Tony asked, glee all but dripping from his voice. "That Steve?"

"Oh, this _is_ an honor," Wanda said, with a speculative gleam in her eyes. "I'm Wanda, that's Tony."

Steve lifted a hand, his gaze moving from Bucky to Sam. "What did you guys _tell_ people about me?"

"Nothing too incriminating," Sam replied. "And it was mostly Pegs telling the stories."

"We only told the good stuff," Bucky added. Which was sort of true, but also sort of not. He tried not to talk about Steve at all if he could help it, but whenever Sam and Peggy were around, Steve's name tended to come up more often than not. He had been a big part of their high school life, after all.

"Only the _best_ stuff," Tony corrected, leaning in. "Is it true that you mooned your vice-principal during the Homecoming game because he made a homophobic remark about Sam?"

Steve groaned, but nodded in assent. "Yeah, that's...wow. Yeah, I, um, did that."

Wanda tucked a long strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. "And leading the entire student body into a sit-in until the school created gender neutral bathrooms?"

Steve pointed to Bucky. "Yes, but it was his idea."

"Oh my God, it was _not_ , I just said that it was unfair that Peter couldn't go to his bathroom of choice on his boy days."

"Don't let him fool you," Sam said. "Bucky was the instigator of the group, and Steve was the one who put everything in motion."

"That's not true at –"

"Except it kinda is, though," Steve said, nudging Bucky's side, the touch warm and friendly. The years seemed to rewind to high school, and the casual way Steve used to invade Bucky's personal space like it was an extension of his own. Bucky's head swam with the surreality of it all.

Rhodey, thankfully, picked that minute to come to the table and dump a boatload of chips and energy drinks on the table. "Everything a growing college kid needs," he declared, and dropped into the chair on Sam's other side. "Hey, Steve, glad you could make it."

Bucky grabbed his Structural Geology notes from his backpack, and a bag of SunChips from the pile. "Thanks, Rhodey. Forgot to eat earlier, so this is dinner."

"Such a drama queen," Wanda remarked. "One measly B on a quiz and you're moping and starving yourself."

"Not moping," Bucky replied, highlighting a line of his notes. Well, he silently amended, he wasn't moping about his grade, at any rate. And totally was _not_ moping about Nat dumping him or about how Steve was acting like he didn't owe Bucky an apology or – 

"You should ask Steve to tutor you."

Bucky jerked his head up at Sam in shock. "I should what?" he asked.

"He should what?" Steve asked.

Sam pointed a licorice stick at Bucky. "Bucky's found the one thing he's not gifted at, and it's ruining his GPA."

"It's not _ruining_ anything, sheesh," Bucky sighed. "It's no big deal, I'm just falling a little behind in my Calc class is all, there's –" 

"Calc, huh?" Steve's smile was all teeth and speculation. Made him look like someone's wicked stepmother. "I could make the time for a friend. Swing by my room tomorrow and we'll work out a tutoring schedule."

The last thing Bucky wanted to do was spend any _alone_ time with Steve, but maybe, if it was just the two of them, Bucky could get some answers without feeling like a dork. "Uh, any particular time?" Didn't Steve have classes? And why did he still think they were friends?

"What time's your last class let out?"

"Uh, my last lab ends at four?" He had no idea why he phrased it as a question.

"Okay, after that," Steve said. "I'm in Rogers Hall."

"Seriously?" Sam asked. "Someone in Housing has a sense of humor."

"I know, right." Steve shook his head. "But at least I'll always know where I live."

Tony reached across Rhodey to snag a bag of almond M&Ms. "Alright, big guy, what's on the docket?" he asked, and everyone settled into the important business of studying.

***


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky found Steve easily enough the next day – the sheer volume of the music coming from his open dorm room was enough to rattle windows, yet no one else on his floor seemed to mind the noise. Above the din of wailing guitars and crashing cymbals was a throaty-sounding dude screaming his hate at the world, mostly by using the word fuck in a variety of ways. Bucky was pretty impressed with the inventiveness involved. He thought the guy might actually have used fuck as all seven parts of speech, including a pronoun. Which, grammar goals right there.

Steve, dressed in a pair of black pajama bottoms and nothing else, was sitting cross-legged on the floor in a classic Lotus position. His eyes were closed, hair pulled into a topknot off his forehead, showing off the shaved sides. His chest expanded with each even breath, his lean but athletic body completely relaxed, despite the earth-shattering noise. It was the trippiest thing.

"You can turn it down if you want."

Bucky jumped about a foot in surprise, then looked at Steve, who was now on his feet and bent over, his head practically touching his toes, arms curled perfectly around his shins. The surprising play of muscles along his back rippled with the movement. Which was, uh, yeah.

Bucky hadn't even noticed Steve _move_. Which, Steve having stealth ninja skills wasn't at all oddly attractive, because it just wasn't. He turned the volume down to a level that was bearable to human ears and stood there, feeling a little ridiculous. Did Steve expect him to grab some floor and mimic his pose and try to mind meld with him or something? Was yoga a thing Steve did now? Which, it just...seemed so Zen. Not like Steve at all. 

Bucky was also _not_ thinking about how flexible doing yoga would make Steve or anything, because he was a grown-ass person who did not think with his dick. And his dick had gotten over Steve a long time ago. Although, considering the semi-chub behind the zipper of his jeans, his dick needed a damn reminder.

"So, uh." Bucky shifted from foot to foot. He glanced around the room. The walls were painted a delicate shade of pink and completely bare. The bed was a messy tangle of sheets, and clothes were strewn around the dresser in the corner. A battered laptop and a few textbooks sat on Steve's desk, but the space was mostly dominated by sketch pads and brushes. "Still into heavy metal, I see."

"Not everything about me has changed," Steve replied, stretching to his full height, arms fully extended over his head, without opening his eyes. He practically radiated poise and calm. "And I bet you're still into '80s New Wave, aren't you?"

Steve remembered that? Kinda weird, but flattering. "If you're about to give me a hard time about Duran Duran again, I will turn around and walk right out the door."

Steve's lips curved up as he brought both palms together in front of his chest. "Nah, I've actually learned to appreciate the more esoteric nature of Simon le Bon's lyrics, so you're safe there. However, your love of The Smiths is still so _so_ wrong."

Bucky shrugged back, not that Steve could see it. He still wasn't sure where to put his hands or if he should sit or just keep standing there staring at Steve doing yoga like that was a thing or stealing glances at Steve's chest or noticing the way his thighs bunched under the thin material of the PJs or what. 

"Whatever, Johnny Marr is a goddamn guitar genius, fight me."

"That's normally my line," Steve commented.

"Maybe I've adopted it."

Steve finally opened his eyes. The vivid blue of them slammed into Bucky with the force of a freight train. "You should let me do a nude study of you."

Um, _okay_ , non sequitur much? "Uh, I thought I was here to go over a tutoring schedule?"

"I told you we'd negotiate something."

The way Steve said it raised the hairs on the back of Bucky's neck. "When did the word negotiate turn into some sort of weird sexual metaphor?"

"I'm serious." Steve's gaze raked over Bucky from head to toe with what felt like a very thorough, professional appraisal. Bucky's breathing immediately tightened in response. He remembered, viscerally, what that look used to lead to. Okay, maybe his dick wasn't quite as over Steve as he'd thought. 

"Let me do a nude study of you," Steve repeated, his voice a low, tempting flame that curled Bucky's toes and left him wondering just what the fuck was going on.

"Didn't you, uh, get enough inspiration perving over Rhodey's naked ass yesterday?" he finally managed, in a croaked voice.

Steve gave a graceful shrug. "This isn't a competition," he replied. "You're nothing like him. You're way too uptight these days, for one."

Well, no, of course they – "Do what now?"

"And Rhodey's at ease with public nudity in a way that I don't see you ever matching," Steve continued, acting as if Bucky hadn't spoken. "Not that there's anything wrong with that."

Bucky frowned. He had a feeling Steve was totally fucking with him, but it didn't stop him from feeling insulted. "Dude, did you...did you sleep with Rhodey, too?" 

He had no idea why that thought made him so uncomfortable. Of course, Steve had been with other people the last three years. Hell, Bucky himself had just gotten out of a long-term relationship.

But still, the thought rankled for a reason he couldn't quite pinpoint.

Steve chuckled, looking far too amused. "Uh, no, when would I have had the chance? But I don't have to sleep with him to know that he's rather...impressively put together. Sam's a lucky man."

Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with his life that he was debating Rhodey's cock size with the guy he'd fooled around with (and that was clearly _all_ it had been) back in high school? This couldn't be normal. "Is this...I mean, do you make everyone who studies with you pose nude for you these days? Is this how you get off now?"

"If you don't want to pose for me, just say so," Steve said, and shrugged again. "Are you ready?"

Bucky thought Steve really ought to come with a whiplash warning. "To...?"

"Help you with Calculus, of course. That is why you're here, right?" Steve looked at him expectantly.

"Uh...right. Yeah." Calculus. Of course. That _was_ why he was here. Right. Bucky scrubbed a hand over his face, and then snagged his textbook out of his over-full backpack. "Yeah, uh, let's get started."

"Oh my God, Buck, _relax_. Try not to look like you're going to a funeral. It's calculus, not microbiology."

"Microbiology I could handle," Bucky ruefully stated, but forced his shoulders to drop. Nothing had happened; nothing was going to happen. He'd moved past Steve, and Steve had totally moved past him. Everything was fine.

"Yeah, that wasn't a good comparison." Steve gave him a thoughtful look. "I don't remember you struggling in math classes in high school. What happened?"

"Partial derivatives," Bucky replied, simply. It was like he had a brain lock where they were concerned.

"Ah, well. Okay." Steve settled in his desk chair, and gestured for Bucky to take the other one. Even though he was still distractingly shirtless and barefoot, his voice was all business. "If you're familiar with linear transformations, then we can apply that to..."

Bucky listened, attentive, and it was clear that Steve was still a genius at derivative math. He answered all of Bucky's questions with patience, broke down even the most complex of equations into easy to understand parts, and actually made part of it sound sorta kinda interesting. By the time Bucky left an hour later, he had a better understanding of the basic principles than he'd ever gotten from any of his classes.

He'd even managed to forget, until much, much later, that he hadn't asked Steve once about why he'd disappeared from the face of the earth, or what had happened to him the last few years. And he also hadn't given a definitive no to posing nude for Steve at some point, either.

Which, no way he was going to do it, so why didn't he just _say_ so?

It wasn't that Bucky was a prude. The whole _idea_ was laughable what with Sam and Peggy being his best friends and all. From the day they'd all met as kids, Sam and Peggy both had dragged Bucky – sometimes willingly, sometimes not – along with them on the crazy roller-coaster rides that were their lives. And when Steve had come into the picture their freshman year of high school, forget it. Half the time, Bucky wasn't sure why the three of them ever put up with him and his decidedly _not_ impulsive personality, even as grateful as he was for their friendship. 

Bucky always considered himself more of an observer. He was content to hang on the fringes and watch the insanity unfold. 

He envied people like Sam and Peggy and Steve, though, people who could bend life to their will. But he didn't really get them. He thought maybe he'd have been more at home in Victorian England or something, spending his days in seclusion, pottering around with his research and communicating via letters. There were a lot of days when he was sure he'd be happy if he just dropped off the grid and set up a lab on a mountainside somewhere. It'd be nice not to have to worry about saying or doing the wrong thing. To not worry that he wasn't funny enough or sociable enough or witty enough or even interesting enough for society or even his friends. 

He was pretty sure that Sam would have taken Steve's proposal in stride and made some joke and that would have been that. He wouldn't have spent the night going over every word in his head, trying to figure out what Steve had been thinking or whether Steve meant it or had just been fucking with him. He wouldn't have gotten all tongue-tied and defensive.

But then, Sam didn't have the same history with Steve that Bucky did. Even back in high school, Sam had been way more sexually adventurous, easily moving from having a boyfriend to a girlfriend and back again with an ease that was bafflingly irritating and amazing in equal measure. Meanwhile, it had taken Bucky until late in their senior year before he'd finally put two and two together and realized the warm flutter he got whenever Steve laughed at one of his jokes or wrapped him in his bony arms for a hug or just hung out with him after school studying was a Big Fat Crush, caps totally needed.

And, other than making out with a couple of guys at a few parties Peggy had dragged him to and a few failed dates his freshman year of college, Steve was _still_ the only guy Bucky'd been with, too. He got the feeling the same wasn't true at all for Steve, though. Whatever Steve had been up to since Bucky'd seen him last, he'd be willing to bet a good chunk of money that Steve had been getting laid by a wide variety of people. God knew the sort of magnetism Steve radiated was impossible to resist.

Which, whatever. Bucky didn't care what Steve had done or with whom. They were strangers now, _maybe_ , if he stretched it, acquaintances. Nothing else.

***

The next day on his way to his Structural Geology class, Bucky slid into an empty seat next to Rhodey and Sam in Professor Fury's Lit class, and set his backpack down on the desk with a decidedly Not Happy thump. "This is all your fault," Bucky stated, pointing at Sam. 

Sam glanced at Rhodey, who shrugged in an 'I have no idea' sort of way, then looked back at Bucky. "Uh, okay, I'll bite. What's my fault this time?"

Bucky checked his watch before replying. He had a few minutes before the class started, which, good. Plenty of time to ream Sam out for being the cause of Bucky's sleepless night. "Steve wants me to pose nude for him."

"What, like, in class?"

Bucky sighed. Honestly, his friends were so obtuse. "Hell no, I'm not your boyfriend. I mean, like, _for_ him. Privately."

"Is that some sort of euphemism for gay sex I don't know about?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. "You and Steve diving back into the deep end of the pool already? That was fast."

"Christ, no, I'm not _fucking_ Steve, what the hell is wrong with you?" 

"I'm just saying if you wanted a little rebound action, I can think of worse people than your ex-senior-fling," Sam said, with a shrug.

He deserved a goddamn gold medal for patience. "Steve's not my _ex_ anything, other than my _ex_ -friend, which, I'm apparently the only person who seems to be annoyed at him for bailing without a word for over three years, but whatever."

"Look, I'm sure he had his reasons, but he's around again, and I'm a big believer in second chances, so." Sam spread his hands out. "Anyway, why are you so freaked out he wants you to pose for him? He's already seen everything you've got."

"That's. Not. The. Point." Bucky blew out a breath over Rhodey's chuckle. Figured Rhodey would take Sam's side in this.

"No, the point is, why is it my fault that Steve wants to get you naked and draw you like one of his French girls."

"You practically threw me at him on the whole Calc tutoring thing."

"Oh, okay, sure, in that case, I accept full responsibility," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "Are you gonna do it?"

Bucky was sure his eyes had to be all Bugs Bunny falling out of his head. "Are you _high_?"

"I could have told you he'd be too chickenshit, babe," Rhodey snorted. "You know Bucky won't even shower with the other guys after practice."

"I like my privacy." Bucky refused to see how that was a bad thing. Not everyone was open with displaying their bits for the world to see. That didn't make him weird.

"Well, you're not Cameron from Ferris Bueller uptight, but you could totally stand to loosen up some," Sam amended, like that was supposed to help. 

"Thanks." Bucky gave Sam his best glower. Not that Sam was remotely impressed.

"Anytime, brother," Sam replied, with a big, shit-eating grin, just before Professor Fury strolled into the room and Bucky was forced to beat a hasty retreat before he was late to his own class.

Honestly, was it any wonder Bucky preferred his research and schoolwork to socializing? 

***


	4. Chapter 4

There were a lot of reasons why Bucky liked Thursdays – only a half day of classes and no practice – but mostly he liked Thursdays because that was his Starbucks night. He loved the library, no doubt, especially the long tables and wealth of research materials close by, and the Tuesday study group was awesome, but he also looked forward to getting out and about once a week and having a coffee while catching up on his other homework. It made for a nice change of pace. And the chairs at Starbucks were seriously freaking comfortable, too.

The second Bucky stepped up to the counter, Darcy, the cute and _very_ friendly barista who normally worked Thursday nights, pushed a large cup towards him.

"Right on time, as always," she said, in greeting. Her voice was as effervescent as her personality. "And here's your venti breve vanilla latte, easy vanilla, just the way you like it."

"Thanks, Darcy." Bucky returned the easy smile as he took a sip and nodded his approval. "You always get the temperature just right."

Her smile was mega-watt bright, positively coquettish. "For my favorite scientist, of course."

"Uh..." Bucky ducked his head, and cleared his throat way too loudly. Every time she started flirting with him, he froze like the proverbial deer, pretty much like clockwork. "I'm not exactly, uh, a scientist?"

Darcy waved him off. "Not yet. But you will be. I bet they name a building after you one day."

Bucky slid over a five for the drink, then dropped a couple of bucks in the tip jar. He was under no illusions about why his drink was always perfect and on time. "Nah, they only name buildings after people who cure cancer or donate a million bucks or something. My field's not very sexy."

"It's sexy enough when you talk about it."

"Uh...thanks." It seemed a safe enough reply. Sam or Peggy totally would have had a ready comeback – why couldn't any of their confidence have been passed on to him through osmosis or whatever? 

"Anytime." Darcy flashed him another toothy smile.

"Yeah, okay. I should, uh...yeah." Bucky pointed at his usual corner table. "Y'know?"

"Sure thing. I'll come by later with your coffee cake."

"Thanks." Bucky berated himself the entire time he was setting up his laptop and charts. He could hear Sam laughing at him in his head. One day, he'd learn the fine art of flirting. Or, at the very least, not to sound like an idiot every time an attractive person talked to him.

Not that he'd had much reason to practice the past couple of years, but he wasn't going to go there, he wasn't going to dwell on it. It was time to move on. Onward and upwards. Something. 

"I thought I'd find you hiding out here."

"Hi to you, too, Peggy," Bucky said, without looking up from his screen. Maybe if he sat very still, she'd give up and leave him peace.

No such luck, as she made herself at home in the seat across from him. "Who has time for niceties?" 

Bucky sighed. "What was I thinking, you're right."

He finally caved and looked at her. Her hair was a perfect halo of honey-brown ringlets framed around her perfect heart-shaped face. Her nails were a screamingly loud shade of fuck-me-red, which matched both her lipstick and the tank top that was stretched tight across her rather magnificent breasts. (Sue him, he was only human, and he knew her well enough to know she was counting on the glance.) 

Dressed for battle, then. Bucky supposed he had it coming.

"You've been avoiding me, so if Mohamed won't come to the Mountain, etcetera, however it goes..." Peggy said, raising an expertly waxed eyebrow.

"Maybe I just haven't felt like talking about it," he replied, slouching back in his chair. "Besides, you're one to talk. You could have given me the heads up about Steve."

"And ruin the surprise?" Those full lips parted in a grin. "Come now, you have to admit it's lovely having him back. The band's back together, finally."

"Pegs, he _disappeared_. Without a word to any of us." Why was he the only person who cared about this, seriously.

"He said he needed to find himself, who am I to judge how long that takes?" Peggy swiped his latte and took a small sip, then grimaced. "Ugh, how can you drink this?"

"With great gusto," Bucky said, taking the cup from her. "For real, though, you, of all people, aren't pissed off at him for leaving like he did?" Peggy's family had been the one to take Steve in when his mom had died at the start of their senior year. Peggy and Steve were _actual_ family, and yet, Steve had bailed on her, too. 

She let out a slow breath, and her long-lashed deep brown eyes softened. "I can't say that there weren't a few harsh words exchanged, mostly by me. And I'm not saying I've completely forgiven him, either. But he had his reasons for leaving, and for staying away."

He cursed himself for his curiosity even as he spoke. "Which were?" 

"That, you'll have to ask him yourself." Her smile this time was also softer. "He did tell me you two had a nice study session together last night."

"Nice is not the word I'd choose, but sure, it was...productive." Darcy dropped off his coffee cake with a bright smile, and he thanked her, then broke off a piece before pushing the plate Peggy's way. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you about me and Nat...and, I'm sorry I've been avoiding you. I just...haven't wanted to talk about it."

"Can't say I blame you, if I'm honest," she replied. "And I'm sorry I didn't warn you about Steve."

"Thanks."

They nibbled on the coffee cake in silence for a minute, then Peggy leaned forward and placed a soft hand on top of his. "Are you sure you're alright? I know you loved her."

Bucky grimaced, but didn't move his hand. He may as well give up on studying tonight. And, truth be told, he did kinda want to talk about it, and Peggy, for all her flamboyance and diva persona, was one of the best listeners and best friends anyone could have. "Yeah, I did...I guess I still do...but maybe she had a point. Maybe...maybe we were getting stale, and maybe I was, I dunno, starting to settle down."

"You've always been a homebody," Peggy agreed. She squeezed his hand. "And there's nothing wrong with that. But it might do you some good to get out of your shell a little bit. Explore your horizons." 

"You make me sound like some sort of hermity old man," Bucky replied, in what sounded suspiciously like a pout, even to his own ears. It was one thing for him to compare himself to a Victorian scholar in a tower somewhere, but another thing entirely for his friends to call him out on it.

"You really want to go there?" Before Bucky could reply, Peggy started ticking off items on her fingers. "You've had the same group of friends pretty much your whole life, which, do not get me wrong, I am honored to be among that group, but you have a tendency not to go outside your circle. You have a regimen for your meals and your study breaks and doing your homework, including where you do it and when, that you never, ever change, and you've had it since we were in elementary school. You never missed a day of school the entire time I've known you, or flubbed a quiz or assignment or even blown off a class. You're majoring in geochemistry because that's what your dad wanted –"

"I happen to love the science in it, thank you –"

"– and, you've had a grand total of four girlfriends your entire life, one of which was in fifth grade, so I don't think that counts, and one of which was me, and we both know how that ended." Peggy waved her fingers at Bucky. "Should I go on?"

She made them sound like faults. Like he was some stodgy curmudgeon or something, which, okay, maybe he kinda was, but he also did things. Hell, he'd just gotten back from a study abroad trip in Argentina, and that had to count for something. And God knew Steve had dragged their gang of friends to enough protests and marches in high school, and they'd been involved in their fair share of pranks. He just wasn't as brash or loud or impulsive as his friends, but honestly, who the fuck _was_? "Just because I like what I like..."

She laced their fingers together. Her smile was sympathetic. "Look, I sincerely love you and I don't say that about many people, you know that."

"I do," Bucky admitted around the small lump in his throat. He knew how lucky he was to have her in his corner. "I love you too."

"I know," she replied, quietly. "And I'm not telling you to start fucking up your grades or blow off all your classes or go on a three-day bender or anything. And I'm not suggesting that you strip naked and run through the commons to prove a point. I'm just saying it might be a good idea for you to finally get out there and live a little before you're too old to care."

"I'm okay, Pegs," Bucky replied. "You don't have to worry about me."

"That's my point." Peggy full-on beamed at him like he'd just solved world hunger. "I will be the happiest woman in the state when you give me _reason_ to worry about you."

Bucky was still trying to puzzle that one out long after she left to go to rehearsal. 

***

Bucky knocked on Sam and Rhodey's door and got a muffled response to come in. He found them curled up next to each other on Rhodey's bed, the perfect picture of cozy, domestic cuteness. Books and papers were scattered everywhere, as usual, with an open pizza box, contents half-demolished, beside them. Sam's half of the room, by contrast, was almost military in its neatness. 

Bucky helped himself to a slice and sat cross-legged on the floor. "Finished my mineralogy lab work early, thought I'd see if you guys wanted to play Cards Against Humanity downstairs."

"Yes, please," Rhodey groaned, looking up from his laptop screen. "I need a break from this dumbass paper."

Sam blinked in surprise. "The one on Henry the Fifth? I thought we were going to work on it together."

"I got in a groove, decided to give it a whirl."

" _You_ got into a groove on reading Shakespeare?" Sam asked, skeptical. "Who are you and what have you done with my boo?"

"Yeah, you're a friggin' riot, babe," Rhodey replied, rolling his eyes heavenward.

Bucky swallowed his last bite of pizza. "You know, Sammy, just because _you_ don't get iambic pentameter or however they talked back then doesn't mean the rest of us are as helpless. Plus, Peggy and I have told you, like, a billion times, it helps if you read it aloud."

Rhodey chuckled, and nudged Sam's shoulder with his own. "I knew I liked him best for a reason."

Sam pushed back, frowning. "I don't have a problem reading Shakespeare, thank you."

"You two really need to cut it out with the PDA, it's embarrassing." 

Sam just waved Bucky off as he placed a loud smack to Rhodey's lips. "Yada, yada, get over your jealous snit."

" _So_ not jealous," Bucky retorted, flipping Sam off, because _ew_ , seriously, doing Sam would be like doing his brother for real, and Rhodey was seriously cute and all, but Rhodey also came with Tony, and Bucky wasn't sure he'd ever be good enough to punch in Tony's weight class.

"Alright, kids, don't make me separate you."

Sam put his head on Rhodey's shoulder and batted his eyelashes in an outrageous manner. "Sorry, Mom."

Bucky got to his feet. Once they got like this, he knew it was time to bail. "I'll be downstairs whenever you two are done being ridiculous."

"Give me twenty to finish this worksheet and we'll come down and get our game on," Sam said.

Rhodey nodded his agreement to Bucky, so Bucky knew they'd be downstairs on time. He had no idea what voodoo or trick Rhodey used, and didn't care; anyone who forced Sam into punctuality was a magician in his book. God knew, he'd been trying in vain for years and years.

When Bucky walked into the mostly empty common room, he saw Steve camped out in one of the oversized chairs, with a thick book in his hand. His hair was down and seemed even messier than normal, and his pajama pants and t-shirt were dotted in blue paint. Bucky could hear the tinny strains of whatever metal band it was through Steve's earbuds, and was transported back to countless afternoons and evenings of the two of them hanging out, or studying at his house or Steve's. A wave of nostalgia hit him, so sharp it felt like a physical pang.

 _Fuck_.

He'd managed to shove it way under a metric ton of anger and resentment and hurt, but the truth of the matter was, he'd missed Steve every single day. And maybe wasn't as over him as he'd thought. Which, wasn't that a kick in the fucking ass. 

"Hey, man, they run you out of your dorm or something?" he asked.

Steve glanced up, blinking in confusion as he pulled his earbuds out. His smile was a slow blossoming, like flowers unfurling in the first light of spring, and Bucky had to stop himself from rubbing his knuckles against his sternum to get rid of the ache in his chest. "There aren't as many freshmen crawling around here," Steve said.

Bucky huffed a laugh and dropped to the carpet in front of Steve's chair. "You know _you're_ technically a freshman, right?"

Steve fumbled for his phone and hit pause on the music, and closed his book, giving Bucky his full attention. Which was just as much of a thrill as it had ever been. "Yeah, but I'm not exactly a wide-eyed eighteen year-old, either. Just being around them makes me feel old."

It was like the heavens parted to give him the perfect opportunity to finally ask all of his questions. "Hey, so...why did you wait so long to enroll in college, anyway? You graduated with a pretty good GPA."

_Why'd you leave, why did you never call or text or get in touch, why'd you ditch me and everyone else?_

Steve gave Bucky a sheepish look from under his lashes. "I think this is the part where I owe you the same apology I gave Peggy."

Part of Bucky wanted to tell him not to bother, he didn't need it, they were cool now, but it would be a lie. He _did_ need the words, as much as he hated that he did. "Maybe not the exact same one, but yeah, you kinda do," he quietly said. "Maybe I didn't mean as much to you as Peggy did, but you were one of my best –"

"Wait, back up." Steve uncurled from the chair and scooted forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "How could you think that you didn't mean as much to me as Peggy, what the fuck? You... Buck, you were my best friend, before we ever started...you know. Everything else. There wasn't – there wasn't _anyone_ more important to me than you."

"You had a funny way of showing it." Bucky wrapped his arms around his legs, rocking a little. Fuck, he hated that they were having this discussion right out in the open where anyone and everyone could hear, but he'd started it, so they may as well finish.

All this time, he'd thought he'd been the...well, the afterthought, to be blunt about it. Someone Steve started hanging with because he'd already been hanging with Peggy and Sam, and Bucky sorta came part and parcel with their package. And even after they'd started fooling around, Bucky had never been sure if it was because Steve wanted Bucky the same way that Bucky'd wanted him, or if Steve had just been looking for a steady partner who didn't mind experimenting sexually.

"Look..." Steve impatiently pushed back on his hair. "I did a shitty thing. And I'm really sorry. And I don't have a good explanation...or, I don't have one that'll make sense to you...but I didn't bail on you or everyone else because I decided I hated you after grad. I just...needed some time. Space."

"Over three _years_ of it?" Maybe Bucky could have understood taking the summer off to fuck around somewhere or something, but not this. Not after they'd just gotten together and started exploring what they could be. Which, maybe they might've flamed out spectacularly over the summer, but at least they would have tried?

"After awhile, I dunno, it just...seemed easier not to...try, I guess. What would I have said that would have made it better?" Steve shrugged. "It's a shit excuse, I know, and, look, I'm not expecting you to forgive me right away, but, if nothing else, I'd like the chance to try to be your friend again one day."

Bucky could tell Steve meant it – he was all but bleeding sincerity, those big, pretty blue eyes of his all beseeching and soft. And Bucky'd always been a bit of a sucker for those eyes and that look, he knew that, but what Steve had done was really fucked up, and maybe he should guard himself a little bit better. He was still stinging over the breakup with Nat, if he was honest with himself, and trusting the guy who'd – yeah, okay, he could admit it now – bruised his teenaged heart was, well, it was a stretch.

But he had missed Steve, missed their friendship, missed the camaraderie and the way they'd gotten each other on that deep, visceral level. And maybe they couldn't get back what they had, but if Peggy and Sam were willing to give Steve a second chance, maybe he could too. Peggy'd just told him to step outside his comfort zone, after all.

Slowly, giving himself every chance to change his mind, he held out a fist. "You pull a stunt like that again, and I'll come after you for the sole purpose of kicking your skinny ass, but I'm game to try again if you are."

Steve's smile was soft, grateful, like Bucky'd given him a gift as rare as diamonds, as he leaned in to bump his fist to Bucky's. "Deal."

Bucky found himself returning the grin, as susceptible to the damn thing as ever, when he saw Thor Odinson, who played with Rhodey on the football team, bound down the steps and make a beeline their way.

"Bucky, my dude!" Thor was all smiles and the laconic sense of good-naturedness that never left him, at least, off the field. Once he had the football in his hand, though, forget it, he was a fucking pit bull. It helped that he easily topped six-five and weighed about 250 on a good day. Awesome guy, laid back as shit, but bowled over people like a Mack truck at high speed when motivated.

Bucky lifted a hand. He and Thor were friendly enough, but they didn't have too much in common aside from being friends with Rhodey and Sam. Who were pretty much friendly with _everyone_ on campus. "Hey, Thor."

Thor smiled at Steve. "Hey, wassup."

Steve smiled back, but it wasn't as fulsome as it had just been. "How's it goin'?"

"Not too bad, can't complain. Hey, so," Thor said, gesturing at Bucky, "me and Jane and Hosun and Sif are headed to the ATL this weekend for some R&R. You and Nat wanna join us? We've got a couple of rooms at the Renaissance downtown."

"Uh, yeah. About that." Apparently word hadn't gotten completely out yet. Then again, Thor wasn't big into social media, so he probably missed all the good gossip. Bucky wasn't sure if that was a bad thing. "Nat and I sort of split up a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh." Thor's forehead wrinkled in sympathy. "Sorry, dude." Out of the corner of Bucky's eye, he saw Steve straighten up. Just what he needed. Steve curious about his love life. Or, rather, his incredibly pathetic lack thereof.

"It's cool, don't sweat it," he said, with an insouciance he didn't feel. "Guess it's time to get out and see what else is out there." 

He wondered how many times he'd have to repeat it before he started to believe it.

"Still, man, that's gotta be tough," Thor said. "I thought you two looked good together."

Yeah, well, welcome to the club, Bucky thought, but just lifted his shoulders. "It's cool. Now I don't have to worry about not getting into trouble when I'm surrounded by babes in bikinis this summer." 

Not that he'd ever been surrounded by babes in bikinis in his entire life, let alone gotten in trouble with one, but it _sounded_ good. Like something a guy his age was supposed to say.

He must've said the right thing, because Thor's return grin was wide and knowing. "Yeah, yours and Sam's and Rhodey's Ibiza trip, right?" he asked. "Just remember to pack plenty of condoms."

"That's the plan." Not that Bucky had any idea about how to be a playa or whatever the kids were calling it now, either, but maybe this summer would be a good time to find out? Although he'd probably just make a total tool of himself and Sam would have to bail him out, which would pretty much guarantee that Sam would never, ever let him live it down.

"Uh, anyway, speaking of plans..." Thor cocked his head at the front doors. "I better get a shake on and pick up Jane before she heads out without me. Catch you at practice tomorrow?" Thor sometimes worked out with Coach Coulson and the baseball team to keep up with his strength training regimen. Not that Bucky thought he really needed it, but he admired the dedication.

"You bet." Bucky accepted the fist bump that Thor leveled his way.

Thor waved at Steve. "Nice to meet you, man."

"You too," Steve said, and waited until Thor was gone before looking at Bucky. "Sorry about you and your girlfriend." Even the crinkles around his eyes looked sympathetic.

Bucky gave a what-can-you-do shrug, and let out a large sigh. "Yeah, me too. Sort of." Although he wasn't sure how he felt about it these days. 

"How long were you two dating?"

"A little over two years."

"Ouch." Steve winced. "Need me to find her and kick her ass?"

Bucky chuckled at the mental image. "No offense, because I can tell you're, uh, more filled out these days, and I'm sure the yoga or whatever is great for the flexibility, but Nat would literally kill you. She's, like, a sixth degree black belt in Jiu Jitsu."

"Wow," Steve said, then gave Bucky a considering look. "Still, I'd risk dismemberment if you needed it."

"I appreciate it, but I'm good," Bucky said, and smiled.

He felt like maybe they'd turned a corner when Steve winked back at him. Like maybe they were starting to understand each other again, in some weird way.

"Did you mean it?" he asked, surprising himself.

Steve shook his head, brows crinkling in puzzlement. "Uh, I mean a lot of things. This about going after your ex?"

"No, did you mean it about wanting to do the nude sketch of me." He had no idea why this was suddenly so important or why he was even thinking about it, but he found himself wanting to know the answer.

"I never joke about art. Well," Steve amended, "unless there are Velvet Elvises involved."

Bucky opened his mouth to ask what the hell Steve was talking about, but then decided he didn't want to know. Especially if it involved Velvet Elvis paintings. "If you post any sketch or drawing of _any_ part of my naked body _anywhere_ on any social media platform, I'll kill you slowly, then bury you in the marshes."

Steve didn't look particularly impressed with the threat. But then, he'd never been the type to spook easily. "Would it help if I pinky swore to protect your virtue?"

"I forgot how much of a dick you are," Bucky laughed, amused and more than a little bit charmed. 

"Yeah, well, it's a calling."

"I'll do it." The second the words were out of his mouth, he longed to call them back. What was he _thinking_?

Steve chuckled, the sound low and amused. "Wow, the _enthusiasm_ , I mean, Peggy should taking acting lessons from you, for real. You don't have to pose for me if you don't want to, you know."

"I know that," Bucky replied, but didn't call the words back.

Steve cocked his head, studying him like maybe Bucky was an equation he was trying to figure out. "Thank you," he said, quietly. "It means a lot to me that you're offering."

Bucky's breath caught in his throat. Even the air between them seemed to be waiting for Bucky's reply, not that he had any idea what it was going to be.

Thank Christ, Rhodey and Sam chose that moment to walk down the steps to save him, pinkies linked like the saps they both were. "Why’re y’all two looking so serious?" Sam asked, looking around. "What's Steve done now?"

"Nothing. I swear, I was actually on my best behavior this time," Steve replied, holding up his hands. 

Sam looked at Bucky, unconvinced. "Is he telling the truth?"

"Yeah, I mean, we were just talking." Which wasn't a lie or anything, because nothing _had_ happened. At least, Bucky was pretty sure nothing had happened. Everything was totally chill. Which didn't explain why the hairs on his arms were standing on end, but life was full of mysteries.

"We ready to get some Cards Against Humanity on?" Rhodey asked. "Steve, you wanna join us?"

"Sure." Steve stood, tucking his book under his arm. "Been awhile since I've played, but I'm game."

Bucky also got to his feet. "Don't worry, it'll be like riding a bike. You'll get the hang again in no time."

"I'm picking the music, though, just putting that out there," Sam said, as they wandered into the lounge. 

Bucky groaned. "Come on, haven't we listened to 4:44 enough this month?"

Sam punched his arm. "First off, fuck you for besmirching the King. Secondly, no, we have not. And third, you have no room to talk, with this shit you listen to –"

"Okay, just because you're too much of a heathen to appreciate The Cure and Simple Minds –"

"Lord, the things I do for friendship," Sam said, casting his gaze heavenward. "You'd think someone with your major would have better taste in rock music."

"Really, babe?" Rhodey asked, exasperated, tugging at Sam's finger. " _Really_?" 

"What, it's funny," Sam replied.

"It's really not," Bucky argued. “Not this time or the other eight billion times you’ve made it.”

Steve looked around the small group. "I don't get it."

"Uh, well, I guess – I mean, it's been awhile – but I'm getting my B.S. in geology, but concentrating on isotope geochemistry," Bucky explained.

"You know, I never did manage to figure out what any of the science-y stuff you used to talk about meant," Steve commented. "I mean, I tried, but most of the tech talk passed right over my head."

Sam clapped Steve's shoulder. "I feel you, my man. Almost fifteen years of listening to him babble about it and I still have no idea what on earth he does."

Bucky flipped them both off. "It means I study the concentrations of the elements and their isotopes in the Earth's rock formations, you fucking ingrates, why am I even friends with you people."

"In _English_ it means he studies the ages of rocks," Sam replied with a grin. "Sounds exciting, huh?"

"Okay, you _know_ it's a lot more than just studying the ages of rocks," Bucky sighed. This was such an old argument. "We're talking about the origin of the planet's surface, how it relates to the air, how it affects the chemical process of water –"

"The point is," Rhodey said, interrupting Bucky mid-tirade, "is that it was a horrible joke. And Sam's sorry he made it."

"No, I'm not."

"If you want to get laid again this year, yes you are."

"In that case, Bucky, brother of mine, I love everything about your major and who you choose to be."

Rhodey just grinned Bucky's way, then rubbed his hands together. "Alright, who's ready to offend some people?"

***


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky's phone rang just as he left Waffle House after a nutritious breakfast of double hash browns all the way and cheesy grits. His smile was already in place as he answered. "Hey, sexy mama, how's it going?"

"Oh, stoppit." Winifred Barnes' voice was a mixture of fond exasperation and pleasure. "I haven't been sexy since the '90s."

"I beg to differ, but that would be creepy and weird and Dad would probably kick my ass." Both laughed at the well-worn joke. "So, what can I do for the light of my life?"

"Nothing, just checking in," Winifred said. "How's school, how's baseball, are you keeping Sam out of trouble?"

Bucky slowed his stride, enjoying the soft breeze and warm sunshine. "Good at the moment, fine, and hell no, that's Rhodey's job now."

"Baby boy, Sam is always going to be your job."

"Thanks, Mom, that's very comforting." He had a sudden, terrifying vision of being in a nursing home with Sam, keeping him away from hitting on all of the nurses, male and female, and trying to start riots like Nicholson's character in that one old movie his dad loved.

"It should be. Lifelong friends are rare in this world. How're your classes?"

"Great. Professor Foster is talking about another Cañon City trip this summer. And, I dunno, I'm thinking about going along, beefing up my resume."

"I thought you were going to go to Ibiza with Sam and Rhodey after graduation to sow some wild oats."

"Well, we were talking about it, but..."

"Go," his mother interrupted, in a clear, firm voice. "Go frolic naked on a beach and drink too much and have a string of one-night stands with dubious women or dubious men and have many crazy adventures that you'll be too ashamed to tell me about."

Bucky was certain he was blushing to the roots of his hair. "Oh my God, _Mom_ –" 

"Don't Mom me. I count myself as the luckiest of all mothers that I had a hand in raising such a beautiful and responsible young man. But you're only going to be young and frivolous once. Enjoy it. The magma formations or whatever they are will still be there."

Dear Lord, even his own mother was basically calling him boring. What in God's name was the world coming to? Had to be something in the water. Either that, or Peggy was conspiring with his mom against him, and there weren't enough words in the English language for how terrifying _that_ thought was.

"I'll think about it. Anyway, how's Dad? Still trying to convince you to let him expand the garage?"

"Trying and failing," Winifred laughed. "How's everyone else? Has Peggy's play debuted yet? How's Nat doing?"

"Fuck." The word slipped before he could call it back. "Uh, jeez, sorry, Mom, it's...me and Nat sort of, uh...broke up. Or, like, she broke up with me, so. Yeah."

Winifred went silent for a very long minute. "I see."

"I'm fine, I swear, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, it's just...been kinda crazy lately with school and life and, uh, Steve's here, you remember him, right." He was babbling a little bit and he knew it.

"Steve Rogers?" Bucky could practically see his mother's eyebrows raise. "He's there in Athens?"

"Yeah, he's...I don't know, actually, what happened or why he disappeared or where he went off to, but he's back now and taking classes here and... Is it weird that I'm happier to have him back than I'm sad that me and Nat broke up?"

Which, he hadn't realized that was even a thing until he'd said the words. Jeez, what did that say about him? About his relationship with Nat? No wonder she'd dumped his ass.

"Well, you and Steve were very close, so...no, not entirely weird." It was clear his mom was choosing each word with care. "Are you sure you're good with seeing him? I know how much he hurt you after he left the way he did."

"He did hurt me, not gonna lie about that, but...we talked and I dunno, he really seems like he wants to try again, so, uh, I dunno," he finished, lamely. "What do you think?"

"Are you...is that something you want?" she asked, in that same careful tone. "To try again?"

"Oh, it's not..." Belatedly, he realized how that must've sounded. (No, his mom didn't know all of the dirty details about what he and Steve used to do, but she knew enough.) "We're not...I mean as friends. Just friends."

"I see."

"You know, Mom, whenever you say _I see_ like that, it doesn't bode well for, like, anybody."

She sniffed. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said primly. "But give Steve my best."

"I will." Only, he'd leave out his mom's weird reaction.

"Now, tell me about Peggy's play."

"Uh, sure," he said, and launched into the details and drama of Opening Night.

***

Bucky looked up from his notes when the Cheeto landed on his textbook. Wanda grinned at him from across the table from where she was curled up in her oversized hoodie. He shook his head, pulling out one of his earbuds, and threw the Cheeto right back at her. It landed in a puff of orange dust on her notepad.

"Those things are gross, you know," he observed. Beside him, Steve continued to scribble on his tablet, and across from him, Sam and Rhodey were typing away on their laptops. Tony was intently reading some thick-ass tome (to call it a mere book would have been a disservice), head bobbing away to whatever song he was listening to.

Wanda's smile didn't dim. "I'm sorry you have inferior taste in snacks."

He shot her the finger. "Was there something you needed or are you bored?"

"Can't it be both?" Wanda asked, then turned, flicking the Cheeto over to Tony.

Tony's head popped up. "What?!" he bellowed, then winced, popping his earbuds out. "Let's try that again, not at max volume."

"Rude," Rhodey commented, elbowing him. "That was my ear, man."

"Quit whining, you big crybaby." Tony hooked his chin over Rhodey's shoulder and gave Wanda a winsome smile. "Did you need something, my sweet?"

"Entertain me, I'm bored."

"Unless you want to hear a riveting account of the Fifth Battle of the Isonzo" – Tony held up the cover to his book, like that was supposed to help – "I suggest talking to Steve." 

Steve glanced up, long bangs flopping over his face. "Do wha'huh?"

"Hold on, why are you reading about Isonzo?" Sam asked, peering around Rhodey. "You're not even taking any history classes this semester."

"I like military books." Tony said it like it should have been perfectly obvious.

"Yeah, but isn't that in Italian?" Sam asked, gesturing at the cover.

Tony gave him a blank look. "Well, _yeah_. What other language would it be in?"

"Right, of course. What was I thinking?" Sam straightened and widened his eyes comically at everyone else.

Rhodey just chuckled and bent his head back to his laptop. "Babe, I don't even know why you're surprised that Tony knows Italian. That's, what, your fifth language?"

"Sixth," Tony corrected. "I'm learning Japanese this year."

"Sixth," Wanda repeated, wide-eyed. "That's nuts. I feel like I've barely mastered English."

"Kinda hot, though," Bucky said, shrugging. "People who know a lot of languages, I mean."

Steve cast him a sidelong look, then tilted his head back Tony's way. " _Non ci pensare nemmeno. Sono tornato per lui._ "

Tony made a show of putting his hands up in the air. " _Non me lo sogno neanche. È tutto tuo._ "

Okay, wow, Steve speaking another language all fluent like that was...that was...new. "What'd you just say to him?" Bucky asked, nudging Steve with his elbow. "Was that Spanish or...?"

"Italian, and nothing, just testing his conversational skills," Steve said, giving Bucky a small smile.

"Your accent's really good, by the way," Tony commented. "I take it you've spent some time there."

Steve ducked his head, and started fiddling with his pen. "Yeah, some."

Wait, Steve had been in Italy long enough to learn how to hold an actual conversation in _Italian_? What the fucking hell?

"And the mystery of your missing years grows," Sam said, with a thoughtful nod. "You're not running from the law or anything, are you?"

Wanda smacked Sam's arm. "Be nice."

"I am!" Sam protested. "I just need to know if I’m gonna have to shield Steve from Interpol or something."

"I'm not wanted by Interpol or any other law enforcement agency, Sam."

"That's a relief," Bucky said, then ducked his head so he was practically whispering in Steve's ear. "So...how many languages do you speak now?"

Steve's lips curved as he held up four fingers. Bucky whistled in admiration and maybe to hide the fact that he was kinda way turned on. Because, that wasn't ridiculously arousing or anything. And he definitely wasn't thinking about Steve murmuring sweet nothings in Italian or any other language in his ear or against his skin while undressing...

And no no no, he really needed to think about something else ASAP.

"You free Friday afternoon?" Steve asked, jerking Bucky out of his thoughts.

He wrinkled his nose in confusion. His last class let out at 2:30, and he wasn't scheduled for any lab work, so. "Uh, yeah, why?"

"I reserved one of the studios, if you were still serious about posing for me."

"Oh, yeah, that's." Bucky rubbed suddenly clammy hands on his jeans. "Sure. What, uh, what time?"

Steve worried his lower lip between his teeth. "Five good?" 

"Sure, okay." Bucky gave a wobbly nod, then made a point of going back to his notes. But every equation and word swam on the page. How was he going to get through an entire afternoon or whatever, just him and Steve, with him not wearing a stitch of clothing? This was going to be such a disaster.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Non ci pensare nemmeno. Sono tornato per lui._ " - "Don't even think about it. I came back for him."
> 
> " _Non me lo sogno neanche. È tutto tuo._ " - "Wouldn't dream of it. He's all yours."


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky didn't consider himself to be a coward. He might not ever instigate them, but he held his own and always had Sam's and Steve's and Peggy's backs in a fight. But this, man, this was something else. Like, crazy on top of insane with nuts sprinkled on top.

He let out a deep breath as he hovered just inside the entrance to one of the small art studios, gaze snaring on the massive red sofa that took up most of the space.

"Kinda tacky, I know, but I didn't pick the furniture."

Bucky jumped about a mile high, hand clutched to his chest. "Jesus fucking Christ!" he exclaimed, whirling around to see Steve beside him, those summer blue eyes dancing with mirth. "You scared the shit out of me, man."

Steve shrugged, and hefted his backpack a little higher on his shoulder. "I could tell. If you were wound any tighter, I could probably tell time by you."

"Very funny." Bucky looked at the sofa again. If anything, it looked even bigger.

"If you don't want to do this, it's cool."

It was difficult to meet Steve's gaze, but he did it anyway. It helped that Steve's expression was warm and open, rather than judgmental. "I know, I just...I'm good. Promise."

"Yeah, okay." Steve clapped him on the back, and walked past him to set his backpack down on the floor. He crouched down, rummaging through it, and grabbed his sketchpad and a few pencils. "Just strip down and lie on the sofa."

"Sure." Strip down. Right. Bucky looked at the sofa one last time, then the top of Steve's head, and let out a slow, deep breath. He was posing for a friend, nothing more. And Steve had seen (and touched and kissed and – okay, _stop_ ) every inch of his body, anyway. This was no big deal.

He grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and started pulling it up over his head before he could change his mind.

"I feel ridiculous," he said, a short time later. He kept trying to get comfortable on the sofa, but he felt exposed and weird and his balls were cold and he was pretty sure he was blushing all the way down to his ankles. Not exactly the best combination on the planet.

Steve didn't look up from his sketch pad. He was frowning a little in concentration, shoulders hunched in as his pencil flew across the page. "I had no idea you were such a prude now."

Bucky's eyes narrowed. Steve damn well knew better. "Fuck you."

Steve let out a quiet laugh and turned the pad to another angle. "You kiss your mother with that mouth? And stop twitching."

Bucky gave what he hoped was a meaningful glare – not that Steve was in a position to appreciate it, since he still hadn't bothered to look up – and got back into the position Steve wanted. Which still made him feel like he was in a setup for a porno, even though he knew it was a perfectly respectable thing. Like, Rhodey did it in _class_ , for fuck's sake, why was Bucky making it such a big deal? 

The only sounds for a long time were their own too-loud breaths, and the scritch of Steve's pencil. Bucky busied himself by studying Steve. He was barefoot again, toes peeking out from the frayed hem of his jeans, and he was practically swimming in his plain black t-shirt, hair pulled into its usual topknot, but there was still something about him that caught the eye. Invited a second look, then a third. Maybe it was Steve's authoritative aura or his quiet intensity or maybe it was the way he carried himself, like he was a lot taller and brawnier than he really was, Bucky had no idea. But whatever _it_ was, Steve had it in spades. 

He shifted again, to work out the kink in his lower back and not at all because he could feel the blood in his body racing due south from staring too much at Steve and the curve of his neck and the elegant taper of his fingers. He needed a distraction. "Rhodey always stands when he models nude in class," he said.

"And if I'd wanted to draw Rhodey in any position, I would have done it already," Steve replied, quietly. "And now you're frowning, _seriously_?"

"Sorry." Bucky had no idea how Steve knew he was frowning, since he _still_ hadn't so much as glanced in Bucky's direction in forever, but he figured artists were like mothers and had eyes in the back of their heads. Or top of their heads, in Steve's case. "Why did you want to sketch me, anyway?" he asked, after a beat of silence. "You never did in high school."

Steve's shrug was minute. "That's not true."

"It's not?" Bucky certainly never remembered posing for Steve back then, nude or clothed.

"I used to draw you all the time. I liked the look of you, still do. You've got this great fluidity and energy about you that...well, it always grabbed my attention."

Kinda what Bucky'd just been thinking about Steve, which was weird, since the two of them were nothing alike. "Uh, thanks?"

"You're better in motion, though," Steve continued. "I used to love watching you play baseball."

"What?" Bucky frowned. "Dude, you never even _went_ to our games in high school."

Steve finally looked up. His eyes seemed unusually blue, and much too big for his face. "Also not true. I didn't normally stay the full game, but I was always there."

" _Seriously_?" Now Bucky was even more confused. "But...why'd you never say anything? Or, I dunno, wait to hang afterwards or something?"

Steve's lips quirked into another grin. "You put enough pressure on yourself to be perfect, I didn't want to add to it. Besides, I kinda liked watching you when you weren't aware I was around," he said, then motioned Bucky's way. "Now stop moving already before I tie you up and turn this into a Kinbaku exhibit instead of a nude study."

Bucky had no idea what Kinbaku was, but he decided he didn't want to chance it. With Steve, there was no telling. He stayed as still as he could, but his thoughts were still racing a mile a minute. Steve had gone to his games. Steve used to watch him play. And, all this time, Bucky'd just thought that part of his life wasn't something Steve was into. That it had been something Steve had put up with because he was a good friend. Crazy to think that he'd been so oblivious.

He drifted a little, lulled by the sound of the soft scratch of pencil on paper, but it was like his brain was stuck in gear, replaying his entire friendship with Steve in a different light. Sure, they'd clicked on some level from the first day they'd met as gangly, awkward freshmen, but Steve had always been just a little...above Bucky's level. And not in the same way that Sam and Peggy were, either. Steve could be just as charming, just as loquacious and outgoing as either of them, but his light burned in a different way. Brighter, hotter, both his talent and his drive so much larger than his body. Bucky'd been a little intimidated by it, even as he'd found himself drifting closer and closer to Steve, a moth unable to help himself from flying right into Steve's flame. And that mixture of fascination and intimidation had never wavered, even after they'd gotten together. If anything, it had gotten worse. The more Steve had touched him, kissed him, made him fall apart, the more Bucky'd been convinced that he was going to burn to a crisp from the inferno Steve had set within his body.

It had never, not once, occurred to him that Steve might've been just as drawn to him. And certainly not after Steve had up and disappeared like a thief in the night.

It took him a second to register the absence of the background noise of Steve's pencil. He opened his eyes to see Steve leaning over him, sharp cheekbones and sharper jawline thrown into relief by the late afternoon shadows, his eyes hooded, wisps of hair falling across a high forehead. Bucky couldn't quite place the look, but seeing it knocked him a little off-kilter all the same. He struggled to sit up, but stopped when Steve placed a hand to his chest, and shook his head.

"You look good like this." 

There was something in Steve's voice that Bucky'd never heard. He swallowed, throat suddenly tight, and fought against the urge to drop his gaze. Steve was barely touching him, yet Bucky's skin burned white-hot. His head was swimming; all of the oxygen felt like it had been sucked out of the room. 

"What's, uh" – his voice cracked – "what's going on?"

"Stop me if you don't want this, okay," Steve said, then, before Bucky could react, pushed Bucky flat on his back, then crawled on top of him to straddle his hips. 

Bucky stilled, frozen in place. OhGodohGodohGod. 

He was naked and Steve was on top of him, a little heavier than he used to be, but still a perfect weight. He was naked and Steve was staring down at him, those big blue eyes fever-bright with desire. He was naked and Steve was slowly leaning down, those thick, long eyelashes and full, smiling lips coming closer, closer – 

Bucky lost his breath altogether at the light press of Steve's mouth on his.

This was...Steve was...they were...oh _God_.

His hands spasmed as he placed them on Steve's hips to hold him right where he was. He couldn't breathe or think and he had no idea why Steve was doing this, but it didn't seem to matter as far as his body was concerned. Time spun backwards to that giddy, golden month before graduation, and every part of Bucky yearned, straining and twisting, for more. He sank into the kiss, slid his tongue along Steve's, relearning him by taste and touch. Then Steve made a small, guttural noise, and _this_ kiss was completely different – no longer easy and undemanding, but hungry and controlling. Now, Steve ground against him, and took what he wanted. Bucky was suffocating, drowning in heat and need and sheer longing. He clutched at Steve's shoulders, arched into the kiss, his bare chest rubbing against Steve's t-shirt in delicious friction as a low moan caught in his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so desperate, so completely _not_ in control.

"More," Steve growled, and bit at Bucky's lower lip, the pain sending a shockwave of desire zinging through Bucky's body. He raked his nails along Steve's sides under his shirt, hips flexing as he sought friction, movement, _something_ , anything, please. Steve pinned him in place, as his teeth raked along Bucky's jaw and throat. His hand slid lower, then lower still, and Bucky's moan died when those clever, long fingers curled around his cock.

"Oh, Jesusfuck...God..."

He could feel, rather than see, Steve's pleased smile. "Much better," he murmured, and shifted to start a slow, deliberate slide with his tongue along Bucky's sternum.

Forget drowning, man, Bucky's entire body was completely on fire, like maybe he'd incinerate on the spot. He bit down on his bottom lip so hard he was sure he was going to draw blood any second, gurgling groans spilling from a locked throat, as he pushed up, hips flexing in time with each sure twist of Steve's fingers around him. Steve continued to make his way down Bucky's body, each brush of his lips a brand on Bucky's needy skin. When Bucky felt a soft huff of air across the head of his cock, his eyes snapped open in surprise. Steve was kneeling on the floor now, lips tantalizing close, fingers still wrapped snug around him.

"Steve..." He didn't think he could get another word out if his life depended on it. 

"I got you, it's cool," Steve replied, giving him a small, knowing smirk. "I just want to know if you taste the same."

 _If you taste the same_... OhGodohGod...

Before the thought could fully form, Bucky felt Steve's lips stretch around him, tongue fluttering lightly as he started to bob his head. Bucky lifted his hands – to push Steve away, to push him down, he wasn't sure – then lowered them, nails digging tightly into his palms as he curled his hands into fists at his sides. There was no way he had the strength to say no to this. He was so close already, and they'd barely done anything.

Bucky felt possessed, marked, like Steve was staking his claim.

Then Bucky stopped thinking altogether as Steve did something with his tongue that was probably illegal somewhere and had stars bursting behind Bucky's eyelids. Between the sweet, tight suction around his cock and Steve's low hums of pleasure that reverberated through him with every slide of his lips, Bucky wasn't sure how Steve could possibly get any better. In fact, he couldn't remember anyone ever going to town on his dick like this, and just the thought of it, that Steve was so desperate and wanting for _him_ , coupled with those little greedy moans and tongue flutters, was too much, he wasn't gonna last, he –

"Steve," he gasped, the only warning he could manage, before he came, shuddering and sudden. And Steve – fuck _fuck_ – just milked him through it, throat working as he swallowed, still making those greedy sounds like Bucky's come was the sweetest of tastes, which was maybe the single hottest thing ever. 

When Steve finally lifted his head, lips shiny-wet and sticky, smiling like he was super pleased with himself, Bucky's heart lurched sideways and knocked against his ribs. "C'mere," he muttered, patting his thighs clumsily, and Steve wasted no time straddling his legs again. They both made short work of unzipping Steve's jeans and pulling his underwear down far enough so his cock, already hard and leaking, bobbed out. 

"Here, get me wet," Bucky instructed, and Steve sucked three of Bucky's fingers into his mouth, the feel so insane, so intense, that Bucky's spent cock gave an interested twitch. "Christ, your fucking mouth..."

Steve just hummed and laved spit all over Bucky's fingers, sloppy and slick. Then he popped them out and guided Bucky's hand to his cock, wrapping his own fist around Bucky's. "Not gonna last long," he rasped, his lips still shiny with the remnants of Bucky's come, his eyes clouded with lust and longing.

"Yeah, really don't care," Bucky told him, setting a fast rhythm, jacking him off the way he remembered Steve liked best. Muscle memory to the rescue. 

Steve moved with him, those long lashes fluttering as he pushed forward into Bucky's fist. " _Sì, così, bravo... sei ancora così perfetto... Dio, quanto mi sono mancate le tue mani su di me...mi è mancato toccarti...parlarti, sì, ti prego..._ "

Bucky had no idea what Steve was saying, but he could grasp body language well enough to know that Steve was super close, if his desperate pants and screwed shut eyes were anything to go by. "You're good, I got you, c'mon, come for me," he crooned, brushing a kiss to slack lips as he twisted his wrist one last time.

Steve jerked, then stilled, thick white ropes of come coating Bucky's hand and Steve's, and the bottom of Steve's shirt. They both slumped together, dazed, their mingled breaths locomotive fast, everything too close, too loud, too much. Bucky felt like he was floating, suspended in mid-air, without a safety net or strings.

"So, uh, that was...fun." Steve lifted his head to give Bucky a wide, hazy grin. His face was blotchy red and his forehead dotted with sweat. God, he was gorgeous. "We should, y'know, do it again. Sometime. If you wanted."

"We should?" Bucky asked, blinking owlishly. There were still sunspots behind his eyelids.

"Sure." Steve leaned in, brushed a quick, heated kiss across Bucky's lips. "Be a good way for us to let off steam."

Bucky nodded dazedly. His head was still spinning from his own orgasm. "Uh, okay?"

"I, uh...are you good to lock up?" Steve asked, lifting himself easily off of Bucky, and tugging his underwear and jeans back into place. He walked over to the chair and bent, throwing his sketchpads and pencils into his backpack. "I really gotta run, sorry..."

"Uh...okay?" Bucky said again, but Steve was already walking out the door, the clang of it swinging shut behind him as loud as a gunshot. What the hell...?

He stayed put for another minute, trying to make any sort of sense about what had just happened, but came up empty. This was...they'd just...he'd just...okay, yeah, he was lost. And, because he really only knew of one thing to do when he felt like this, he rolled off the sofa and swiped his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and called Peggy.

She answered on the first ring. "Bucky, I need to call you back, I'm on the other line with –"

"So, I sorta kinda slept with Steve," he blurted out, interrupting her.

There was dead silence on the other end for a moment. "I see," she finally said, then: "Can you give me one second?"

He heard the line click before he could say one way or another, but didn't dare hang up. No way he was risking her wrath, not from the tone of her voice.

She came back on before he had too much time to think. "Define sorta kinda?"

"Uh, well." He went to scrub a hand over his face before he remembered that was the one covered in spunk. Which, gross. "I dunno, I'd agreed to pose for a nude study for him this afternoon and it was fine and cool until he kinda crawled onto my lap and then blew me and then I maybe jerked him off and then he bolted?"

She sighed, long and loud. "I'll meet you at your room in fifteen minutes. Go directly there, no stopping," she instructed, then hung up without another word.

[](https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/azewewish/495704/45809/45809_900.jpg)  


***

When Bucky trudged up the stairs to his floor, Sam was lounging next to his room with his phone out, thumbs flying fast across the screen. He looked up when Bucky pulled out his keys. "I'm supposed to be sitting on you to make sure you don't go anywhere before Pegs gets here."

"Where would I go?" Bucky asked, unlocking the door and ushering Sam inside. He flopped immediately on his futon sofa, too tired to move. He felt like maybe he'd aged a year in the last half hour.

"I dunno, man, but I wasn't about to argue with her." Sam sprawled next to Bucky and nudged at his knee. "You wanna tell me what happened?"

Bucky plucked at a stray bit of thread on his jeans and shrugged. "M'sure Peggy told you already."

"And you're cool with it?"

Bucky shrugged again. In the moment, absolutely, he'd been about as on board as he could get. Steve's mouth on him had felt fucking phenomenal, and getting his hands on Steve again had felt... _good_. Like rediscovering something he'd lost and never thought he'd have again, all euphoria and endorphins mixing together in some potent blend. It was only after – with Steve bolting _again_ , which, was this like a thing for him now? – and the walk of shame back to his room that he'd maybe started having second thoughts about what had happened.

His phone started buzzing, and he pulled it out of his back pocket. Steve was calling him. _Shit_.

"Who is it?" Sam asked.

"Steve, sorry, I gotta –" He hit accept and placed it to his ear. "Uh, hey, man, how's it goin'?" He cringed at how high-pitched his voice sounded.

"Hey, Buck," Steve replied. He sounded a little out of breath. "Uh, jeez, I'm sorry I had to run out so fast...I mean, it wasn't you, you were...wow, like, amazing, I mean...my legs are still shaky." He blew out a harsh breath, super loud through the speaker. "Look, I just...I know it was sort of spur of the moment and all and I swear to you, I didn't _plan_ on doing anything, that's not why I wanted to draw you, but, uh...I had...a really good time."

"Yeah, me too." Oddly, Steve's clear case of nerves helped to calm Bucky's own. He wasn't the only one who'd been affected by what had just happened. "It was...yeah. I liked it." Understatement of the goddamn month.

"Yeah, me too. A lot," Steve said, softer now. Intimate. "So, we're...are we cool? I mean, I hope we're cool, because I'd love to –"

"I want that, too," Bucky blurted out. He studiously ignored Sam, and Peggy, who had just let herself into the room. Bucky was pretty sure she was wearing a pair of Bucky's old pajama pants and one of Sam's sweatshirts, and her hair was in a ponytail, and yet, she still managed to look like a million bucks. Women were a mysterious marvel, alright, none more so than her.

"You do?" Steve asked, bringing Bucky's attention back to the conversation.

"Yeah, I mean, if that's –"

"Yeah, are you kidding, that's...okay. _Shit_." Steve exhaled again. "Okay, worst timing ever, but I'm gone this weekend for a thing, that's why I bolted, so I wouldn't miss my ride, but maybe we can talk about it Tuesday? Before class? I mean, how we want to do this and, I dunno, whatever?"

"Yeah." Already, Bucky felt a lot lighter. "That'd be great. Have a, um, good weekend, okay?"

"You too, Buck. I'll see you Tuesday."

"See you." He ended the call, then looked up to see Sam staring at him with a concerned expression, and Peggy giving him her best stern glare, like that had ever worked on him. "What?" he asked, plugging his phone into the charger, just to give himself something to do with his hands for a minute.

"Was that Steve?" Peggy asked. "Tell me he at least apologized."

"He did." He wanted to tell her it wasn't any of her business, but he'd sort of made it her business, and even if he hadn't, this was _Peggy_. She and Sam were family. "We're good," he added, because they were both still frowning at him.

"You didn't sound good when you called me," Peggy reminded him.

"Well, I mean, it was...he just _left_ , okay, I was still sort of orgasm stupid." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Look, you know how I get, it takes me a minute to come back online."

Peggy didn't laugh like he'd hoped, but her shoulders did round out. "But you're alright with it now?"

"Yeah, I mean, we're good. He was late for his ride, but he called, so...yeah. We're good." He cast a quick glance to Sam, then back to Peggy. "I, uh, I think I want it to be a thing, actually."

"A thing?" Sam repeated.

"Yeah." Bucky nodded. "Me and him. Like a Friends With Benefits thing. Booty call. Strictly casual."

Sam's brows shot up. "Dude, you don't exactly _do_ casual."

"I know, but...look, I've been thinking about what you told me, Pegs –"

"I didn't tell you to sleep with Steve –"

"I know that, but you said to get out of my comfort zone, and this is...I can do this." He nodded again, more sure of himself. This was what he wanted. If he was honest, he'd wanted this from the first moment he'd laid eyes on Steve again. "Steve's not a stranger, exactly, but it's not like he's you or Sam anymore. And we've got a little history, so it's not like I'm going full tilt with someone who doesn't know me and what my boundaries are."

"You think fucking around with Steve isn't going full tilt?" Peggy asked, skeptical. "And what about what he wants? Have you talked to him about it?"

"Doing it again was his idea." Bucky had no idea why he sounded so defensive about it. He wasn't doing anything wrong.

Peggy's frown grew bigger. "It was?"

"Yeah, it was, he just said so just now. And...we're gonna, I dunno, set up ground rules or logistics or whatever on Tuesday. _Also_ his idea."

"Logistics," Sam said, shaking his head. "Only you can make a booty call sound like a lab assignment." 

Bucky just slapped Sam's chest. "Whatever, we can't all have the perfect partner like you do."

"Bucky, it's..." Peggy placed a light hand on his knee. "Are you sure this is how you want to rebound from Natasha?"

Bucky shrugged. "Better with a friend than some random one night stand," he said. Not that he’d had any sort of real practice in _anything_ like this, and they both knew it, but he also knew they'd know what he meant. He also couldn't figure out a way to tell them that he hadn't thought about Nat in...well, weeks. It was like Steve had swooped right in and sucked out all of the oxygen out of his post-breakup funk, and every self-pitying thought about how things with Nat had ended, right along with it.

Peggy and Sam exchanged a long, wordless look that still spoke volumes. Then Sam lifted his hands. "Look, man, get your sexy on with whoever you want, just...be careful, alright. I don't want to have to kick Steve's tiny ass if he breaks your heart again."

"He didn't _break_ it, he just...bruised it a little," Bucky said, and grabbed Peggy's hand and squeezed as he leaned over to put his head on Sam's shoulder. "I really love you guys." And he had no idea why his eyes were prickling with tears, but luckily, neither of them had ever cared about shit like that.

"We know," Peggy said, softly. "We love you, too."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sì, così, bravo... sei ancora così perfetto... Dio, quanto mi sono mancate le tue mani su di me...mi è mancato toccarti...parlarti, sì, ti prego..._ \- "Yes, like that, good, you're still so perfect...God, I missed your hands on me so much, missed being able to touch you, talk to you, yes, please, please..."


	7. Chapter 7

Steve was normally the first one in the studio for their Art Studies class, either sitting in one of the bean bag chairs sketching in his art pad or already at an easel, doing unbelievable things with a pencil or brush. And he'd only gotten better since high school, had managed to refine and hone his ability in a way that was crazy off the charts, professional-grade good. Bucky was, as previously noted, not the artsy type, but he still knew enough about technique and raw talent to know that Steve had something rare. Something that was going to get him into galleries and into magazines and above the mantels in a lot of homes if that was the route he wanted to take. With Steve, it was never a good idea to assume. It was just as likely he'd spend his life painting the sides of buildings and attending a lot of political rallies.

Steve was wearing shoes for once (Birkenstocks, but still, shoes were shoes – Bucky wasn't going to quibble over semantics), but his jeans were still ragged and his once bright-green t-shirt was faded to lime and flecked with splotches of yellow and orange paint. His hair was down, wild and messy, like he'd been running his hands through it too many times.

And looking at him, Bucky felt that new-yet-totally-familiar clench in his belly. He instantly, vividly, remembered the obscene stretch of Steve's lips around his cock, the little wet moans he'd made with every slide, the slick heat of his mouth pressing oh-so-tight, and had to surreptitiously adjust himself. A very large part of Bucky wanted to drag Steve out of class and to the nearest empty closet or classroom or corner, and repeat everything they'd done in the studio. And the force of that want scared the shit out of him even as much as it exhilarated him. 

And the fact that he could have this now, could indulge himself the way he wanted, was completely mind-boggling. Here he was, just a few weeks away from his twenty-second birthday, and he was finally going to start an honest to God _fling_. It was enough to make him giddy.

Then he caught sight of what Steve was painting, and his heart skipped a beat for an entirely different reason. The scene was simple enough – just a park bench surrounded by a copse of trees in full fall colors, with a small creek running through the middle of the forest – but Steve had infused it with so much light, so much innocence and joy, that Bucky felt like he could step right through the canvas and rub his feet on the grass. 

"Holy fuck, Steve, that is, like, _stunning_."

Steve twisted to give him a smile full of warmth and welcome. "You know you don't have to flatter me, right?" His voice sounded rough, like he'd been smoking or something, and Bucky didn't know why, but it was seriously doing things for him. 

"No, I, uh, mean it." Bucky cleared his throat. "It's really something. I love the way the light catches on the bench and the trees and reflects off the water."

"Thanks." Steve's grin widened, making his eyes seem even bluer and the crinkles around them more pronounced. Bucky's breath stuttered slightly at the sight. 

"There's this park with this creek near my aunt's house, and I guess I was just feeling nostalgic today," Steve continued, thankfully oblivious to Bucky's momentary lapse of reason and sanity.

"Can't say that I blame you. I would have never left, if I had a view like that."

"In some ways, we never leave our childhood behind," Steve said, studying the painting with a critical eye. "I mean, if we're lucky."

"So, uh, speaking of...I mean, getting lucky, you, uh, remember what happened?" Worst. Segue. Ever. Seriously, Bucky needed to get his shit together.

Steve snorted, wiping the oil off his brushes. "Uh, Friday wasn't _that_ long ago."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "You're hilarious."

"Of course I remember, Buck, how could I ever forget," Steve answered, with a soft look Bucky couldn't quite decipher. "What about it?"

"Well, you mentioned we needed to talk and –"

"Yeah, about that, there's something I –"

"– I think being a booty call or friends with bennies is a good idea," Bucky finished on a rush, proud of his daring.

Steve blinked once, slowly. "Oh. Okay."

"Was that..." Jesus, why was he so nervous? "Was that not what you were going to ask me? I mean, if you don't want to, it's totally –"

"No, no, it's...uh...just that..." Steve let out a high, sharp laugh and brought his hand to his chest, rubbing a fist across his sternum. "You know what, yeah, uh, it's great. Perfect. I am totally on board, when do we start?"

"Jeez." Bucky could feel the tips of his ears turning pink. He was totally going to embarrass himself by popping a boner in the middle of class any second, he could tell. "I dunno, I'm not...I'm pretty new at this whole thing. I don't know how it works."

He felt marginally better when Steve tugged him in by his belt loops until he was standing in the vee of Steve's legs. "I think it probably works however we want it to," Steve said, and flicked a tongue across his lower lip. "Is kissing in public allowed?"

Bucky nodded, mute. He wanted to chase Steve's tongue with his own, wanted to be the reason Steve's lips were so shiny and slick. He wanted to make Steve go pliant again in his arms.

"And if I wanted to come over to your room later on tonight and strip you down and suck your brains out through your di–"

" _Yes_ , God, yes," Bucky groaned, and cupped Steve's jaw in his hands, silencing him with a long, filthy-hot kiss. Bucky was two seconds from begging, his skin was on fire, and he could not get close enough, couldn't get enough of Steve's taste, was pretty sure he could live off of Steve's hitched moans alone. Vaguely, he could hear the wolf-whistles and cries to get a room already from the other people in the class, but most of his attention was on the heat of Steve's mouth and the possessive grip Steve had on his hips. 

Steve's eyes were clouded and his breath uneven when they parted for air. His cheeks were flushed, lips bruised and full. He was the sexiest damn sight Bucky'd ever seen. "Okay, then," Steve murmured, and pulled Bucky down for another kiss, this one softer, the edges bleeding away until there was only warmth. "I suppose I should let you go before I do something that'll get me kicked out of class, if not the school."

"Yeah, probably," Bucky replied, with his own smile. His head was swimming and the boner was definitely a thing, not that he cared now. "Although I don't think Professor Luis would care if anyone actually _had_ sex in his class as long as they, quote, did it for the right artistic reasons, unquote."

Steve chuckled, low and rich, even as he put a little bit of space between them. "If the right artistic reasons are, I love the way your dick feels in my mouth, then sure."

Bucky made a pained noise. "Please don't do that, I mean, I'm trying to _get_ my dick to lie low a little bit."

"Sorry," Steve said, not looking sorry at all.

"Uh huh, sure," Bucky said. "And, uh, just so you know, returning the favor tonight. On the BJ front."

"No objections," Steve said, leaning in, his look unmistakable.

Bucky bent his head, lips right at Steve's, then he made the mistake of glancing at the front of the classroom and did a double-take. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he groaned, straightening, his hard-on dying a painfully quick Death By Best Friend. "Rhodey, man, your boyfriend's here!" 

"You only call Sam that when he's pissed you off," Rhodey called back. He was three tables over, mournfully looking at a lump of clay like he was hoping it would twist itself into a shape all on its own. Bucky could have told him it wasn't going to work – at least, it never did when he tried it. 

"I don't...get it," Steve said, frowning, and looking maybe just a smidge disappointed (which was kinda flattering as hell, Bucky wouldn't lie) that they weren't still making out. "Why're you pissed off at him?"

"Because he's just here to pick a fight with Professor Luis," Bucky replied, peeved at Sam for cockblocking him, even unintentionally. "Like the absolute dumbass he is."

Rhodey looked all too eager to abandon the clay as he ambled up to them. "What's the shirt say today?" he asked, all mournful. "I'm afraid to look."

"Well, it has a picture of a stripper and under it says 'I Support Single Moms'," Bucky replied, too used to Sam's choice of t-shirts to even pretend like he was shocked or even offended.

"Oh my God, who let him out in public wearing that?" Steve asked, laughing. "And more importantly, where did he get it?"

"Tee Shirt Palace," Bucky and Rhodey replied, in unison.

"And, why do you think they're arguing again?" Steve asked. 

Rhodey sighed. "Well, it all started when Sam dropped by at the start of semester to bring me my phone and he was wearing a shirt that said 'Show Me Your Kitties', and Professor Luis made some remark about how Sam should be using his activism for good instead of the LOLs."

"And we all know how Sam feels about being told he _should_ do something," Bucky continued, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets.

"So now, when he thinks he might be dropping by, he always makes sure to wear a particularly...provocative...shirt as a giant fuck you to Professor Luis," Rhodey finished, with a shrug. Like Bucky, he knew better than to think he was ever going to change anything about the way Sam operated.

"Sam also says Professor Luis reminds him of his Uncle Charlie and it's sort of like putting Uncle Charlie in his place," Bucky said. "Which, he's sort of got a point, but trolling a professor still seems like an extreme way to work out your family issues."

"I'm upset now that I never met this Uncle Charlie when we were hanging out together." Steve grinned. "You guys want to get closer, maybe hear what they're arguing about?"

Rhodey shook his head decisively. "Not a chance in hell."

Bucky stepped back and held his hands in front of him in a _stop_ motion. "Knock yourself out, but fuck no. Last time I joined a discussion with them, they wound up talking about how you could take over a small country with nothing but a blow dryer and a pair of needle-nose pliers, and arguing over Black Lives Matter versus Brown Lives Matter, and I am not equipped to even get _ankle_ deep in those waters."

"Sounds fascinating." Steve clapped Bucky on the back, the touch lingering. "I'll catch you later?"

_Later_. Suddenly, Bucky's jeans were too tight again. "Uh, yeah. Later's great. Good luck, don't drown."

"Cool," Steve said, and ambled towards Sam and Professor Luis, looking ready to jump into the fray like the suicidal idiot he'd been back in high school. Guess some other things also hadn't changed.

"Well, we've lost them for the afternoon," Rhodey pronounced, with world-weary resignation. "Wanna go grab some cheesy grits and then get a head start on study group?"

"Sure," Bucky said, and grabbed his backpack. Rhodey had a point. And he might as well try to get some work done before Steve came by.

***

Bucky was just finishing up the last of his Structural Geology lab and supplemental reading when he heard the rap on his door. His head shot up in confusion, mind completely blank for a beat, until he remembered. _Steve. Later. Oh Jesus._

"Uh, yeah, hold on," he called, glancing around in terror at his room. Normally, he tried to keep everything pretty neat, but he'd been so busy lately that he hadn't had time, and his laundry basket was full to the point of overflowing, and he hadn't changed his sheets in, fuck, he had no idea, and he had books and notes and charts scattered over the futon sofa and small table and his desk area and –

The knock came again, and he heard Steve's muffled voice through the wood: "Did you start without me or something?"

Start without...oh _oh_ um. Fuck. Bucky leapt up and fumbled with the lock, yanking the door open. "What, no, I was –"

His retort was cut off by the hard press of Steve's lips against his. "Let me in before we scandalize everyone on your floor," Steve muttered.

Bucky gave a jerky nod, and stepped aside so Steve could pass by him, then shut and relocked the door. Steve was still wearing the clothes he'd been in earlier, but he'd pulled his hair back, showing off those killer cheekbones and that stubborn jawline. Bucky's mouth went cotton-dry.

"Uh, um," he started, eloquence personified, "sorry about the mess..."

Steve didn't even bother to look around the room; all of his attention was squarely on Bucky, who suddenly felt way overdressed, and he was only wearing track pants. "Two rules before I lay you on the bed and work you over until you're begging me to fuck you."

"Um." Bucky cleared his throat. All of the blood in his body scampered south like an overeager puppy.

Steve held up two fingers. His look was so hungry that Bucky already felt consumed. "One, whenever we meet like this, we both get free rein to experiment or go wild or –"

"Wait, what?" Bucky held up his own finger. "Like, what if the other person's not into whatever it is?"

"Then we'll think of a safe word," Steve replied, "I'm good with that. But I want to be able to please you in ways you might not have tried in the past."

Please him in ways that he...wow, okay. And, uh, safe word, holy hell. "Wait, did you...are you like some sort of, like, professional Dom now?" Bucky wasn't sure if he was anxious or freaked out or intrigued or all three or what, but, whoa, that was some heavy shit. "Is that what you've been doing the last few years? Is that what you were doing this weekend?"

" _No_ , oh my God, you have a very active imagination," Steve said, chuckling, and stepped right into Bucky's space like he belonged there. He placed a hand on Bucky's side and slid down to the waistband of his pants. "Definitely not a professional or even amateur Dom, and no one's tying anyone to the headboard or spanking anyone or...whatever it is you're thinking. I mean, unless that's something _you're_ into now, in which case, I'm up for trying –"

"Yeah, no, I've never, uh –" It was so hard to think with Steve's hands on him. His brain was about as foggy as a spring morning in the mountains. "Nat blindfolded me once, but that's, uh, it?" His voice rose on the last word.

"Okay." Steve nodded. "If that's something you want to do again, I'm game. Whatever you want."

"Alright." Somehow, Bucky's hands had migrated to Steve's shirt, and were busy tugging at it to get it the hell off. "You mentioned two rules?"

Steve tossed the shirt aside and stepped closer. He was still pale all over, except for his shoulders, which were dotted with freckles. Bucky wanted to lick every last one of them, twice over. "Second rule is simple," Steve said. "I expect exclusive rights and I'm offering the same."

"Exclusive...oh, okay, that's..." How was Steve's skin so soft? Did he moisturize? Good soap? Bucky had no idea, but he was addicted to Steve's skin already.

"Buck." Gentle fingers closed over his chin until he was looking down into Steve's big blue eyes. Who was still looking at Bucky like Bucky was an all you can eat buffet, but there was also something serious lurking in his gaze. "I need you to say it."

"Uh, sure." Bucky nodded, his tongue thick and clumsy. "Exclusive rights. Meaning...we're not seeing anyone else?"

Which sort of went against what he thought a casual sex booty call thing was supposed to be, but it was fine with him. He wasn't the type to sleep around anyway. Like, the exact opposite, in fact.

"That's exactly what it means," Steve said, his fingers light as they drifted over Bucky's cheeks and forehead. "You're good with that?"

"Yeah, totally, " he replied, then blurted out: "Sarah."

" _What_?" It was Steve's turn to look confused.

"That's...like, our safe word or whatever, if one of us...does something the other's not into at all," Bucky explained, inwardly wincing the entire time at how lame he sounded. 

"You want to use my _mother's_ name as a safe word?"

"Uh, well, I figure if saying your mom's name doesn't kill our respective boners, then we have some serious shit we need to work out." It made sense in his head, truly.

But Steve just laughed, his nose scrunching delightfully with the movement. "You're still such a fucking dork," he said, fondly. "It's perfect."

"Okay, so now that we've –" Bucky was cut off _again_ by Steve's lips, but this time the kiss was insistent, carnal, Steve slipping his tongue inside Bucky's mouth like he owned every inch of it, and the rest of Bucky right along with it. Bucky just moaned, completely on board with this turn of events, and held tight to Steve's arms as he allowed himself to be maneuvered to his bed, where they both fell in a tangle of more kisses and uncoordinated limbs.

Steve made short work of shucking Bucky out of his pants and underwear, and just as quickly kicked out of his own. Bucky barely had time to appreciate his first glimpse of Steve's naked body in over three years before Steve was on him again with roving hands and biting kisses. Which, Bucky wasn't about to complain. Steve had been a great kisser back in high school, but he'd clearly been getting all kinds of practice, because now he was like some Jedi master at it or something. Add in the way Steve was full-bodied rubbing against him, all hard angles and soft skin, and Bucky was pretty sure he was going to nut embarrassingly quickly if he didn't find a way to slow things down a tad.

"Uh, Steve," he mumbled, between long, drugging kisses that were short-circuiting every synapse, "Steve..."

"Hmm?" Steve mercifully (but also kinda disappointingly) lifted his head a fraction. He looked like a debauched wreck, with hazed eyes and red splotches on his cheeks and collarbones and swollen lips. Strands of hair had come out of his ponytail holder and were matted across his forehead.

"Uh..." Bucky scrambled to try and remember what he'd wanted to ask before he got derailed again by Steve's proximity. "Uh, so, I know you mentioned wanting to...uh...fuck me and I'm all for it" – God, was he ever all for it – "but, uh...I'd still really like to blow you." The last bit came out in a rush.

Steve lifted himself on one elbow, and shifted so he was plastered against Bucky's side. "If you're expecting an argument, for once, I don't have one," he replied, with a grin that managed to be both bashful and hotter than the surface of the sun.

Bucky found himself melting under the force of it. "Yeah, that's a first."

"I think I could sacrifice fucking you into the mattress for round two or three." Steve dragged each word out like it was taffy on his tongue.

Round two or three... _Okay_ , guess whatever nominal plans Bucky had for the evening (which, to be fair, had been reading and more reading and even more reading) had been hijacked. Which was fine. More than fine. This was a much better use of his time. His mom would be proud – holy hell, he was _not_ thinking of his mother while naked with someone, what the absolute fuck was wrong with him?

"Buck, you still with me?" Steve asked, sounding concerned.

"Yeah, totally. Hundred percent." He nodded in emphasis. "And, uh, I was thinking I could maybe use my fingers, too?" he added, certain his blush was purple by this point. "If that's something you're still into?"

"Something I'm still into? You're kidding, right?" Steve chuckled, soft, against Bucky's lips when he kissed Bucky again. "Again, not so much gonna say no to any of this."

"Okay, uh, good." He curled his hand around the back of Steve's neck, felt the warmth of Steve's skin under his touch. "That's good."

"So, how do you want me?"

Loaded question, considering that Steve was naked and hard and lying next to him. "Um, well," Bucky rubbed clammy hands along his thighs and sat up. "Uh, maybe you could...oh fuck. _Fuck_."

Steve shrugged and scooted in even closer, if such a thing was even possible, as closely entwined as they were. "Again, all for it, but prep first might be good."

"No, I meant...uh...I don't. I don't have. We, um, need...lube." Condoms, he was still stocked up on, but Bucky didn't even have any lotion for jerking off purposes – he'd run out, like, a week ago.

"Oh, uh, not a problem, gimme a minute," Steve said, and climbed out of bed, pulling on his jeans. He disappeared out the door a second later. Bucky tried very hard not to freak the hell out. Was Steve going to the drugstore or something? Shirtless and not wearing shoes? Did he even have any money?

A few hellaciously eternal minutes later, Steve came strolling back into the room. He tossed a small bottle onto the mattress and locked the door behind him before quickly stripping back down and climbing onto the bed. Bucky picked up the bottle – it was half full of _Wet_.

"Did you just... _borrow_ this from someone?" he asked, in a small, horrified voice.

"Scott Lang down the hall," Steve replied, like borrowing lube was an everyday normal thing that people did. "His boyfriend's out of town this week, so he doesn't need it."

Bucky knew he had to be eighteen shades of crimson by this point. "Oh my God, how do you even _know_ Scott?"

"He's in my Lit class."

Bucky wasn't exactly sure what it said about him that he was beet-ass-red and was maybe contemplating never leaving his room again, but also still sporting total wood because Steve was all stretched out next to him, slender and pale and perfect, Christ, he was mouth-watering. Bucky maybe wanted to spend a day just on the sharp jut of Steve's hips alone. But then, there was also the fact that Scott fucking Lang now knew that Bucky and Steve were going to have sex of the variety that required _lube_ and maybe moving to a cave wasn't such a bad idea, after all. Maybe Steve could visit, like some sort of conjugal thing.

" _Relax_ ," Steve told him. "You weren't even this uptight the first time we did anything."

"That's because you ambushed me," Bucky reminded him, which was becoming something of a pattern with them, not that he was complaining.

"Yeah, well, show me how much better you've gotten since then." Steve smiled, soft and intimate, and seeing it eased some of the tension creeping under Bucky's skin. He could do this. Maybe. 

"Well, I've had a girlfriend the past two years, so not a lot of dick-sucking has been happening, but I'll do my best." In fact, the last dick he'd sucked had been Steve's, but he figured Steve wasn't interested in hearing that. He fumbled for the bottle and spilled a little on the sheets before he was able to coat his fingers with a thin sheen. "If you wanted, you could put a pillow under your hips and, um, maybe you could bend your knees up like...yeah, that's perfect." 

Actually, the way Steve was positioned – thighs open, ass on the pillow, and knees all bent at a weird angle – should have looked ridiculous. But the way Steve was watching him, like he trusted Bucky more than anyone in the world – made it seem really hot instead. Maybe it was having all of that focus and energy dedicated solely to him or just finally getting to look his fill at Steve's body, the pale pink of his nipples, the concave curve of his stomach, the white-blond dusting of hair on his arms and legs and centered in a thatch around his crotch. Whatever it was, Bucky was a goner for it, just like the old days.

He let out a deep, slow breath before carefully pushing one finger inside Steve, closely watching him for any signs of pain or discomfort. "How's that?"

"Good," Steve replied, thoughtfully, like he was answering a quiz for class or something. "It's been a...awhile...so I keep wanting to push...but then I also want _you_ to push...if that makes sense."

Not really, but Bucky nodded like it did. "Uh, okay, so..." He experimentally started to move, gaze dropping to follow his progress. Which may have been a mistake, because just the sight of Steve's hole clenching around his finger was way too much stimulation for his brain or body to handle. "And...uh, that?"

"It's...yeah, that's...yeah, that's so good," and Steve's voice had that same husky, smoky quality to it that he got when he was really turned on, which, just. Whoa. Bucky went from tentative to harder than a brick in the space of a breath.

He hastily applied some more lube to his middle finger and carefully positioned it before bending over and stretching his lips around the velvet-soft head of Steve's cock. He had half a thought of keeping things light and easy, but Steve, as he always did, had his own plans. He snared his fingers in Bucky's hair and flexed his hips up insistently, and, well. Bucky'd always been great at following directions.

He tried to time the push of his fingers with the slide of his lips, giving himself a minute to get back into the groove of having a dick in his mouth, and letting Steve adjust to the twisting thrust of his fingers. And Christ, he'd missed this – the feel of smooth skin hitting the back of his throat, the heady, musky flavor that was all Steve on his tongue – as he hollowed his cheeks, working Steve's cock. 

It didn't take long for him to settle into a rhythm, curling his tongue along the underside while curling his fingers until he was rubbing against Steve's prostate. And Steve really started to get into it, moans spilling forth, hips flexing helplessly as he tried to keep up with what Bucky was doing, and even though no one was even _touching_ Bucky, he felt like he was about two seconds from spilling all over the sheets.

And that was before Steve started talking, low and rasping, his voice a fucked out wreck: " _Sei bellissimo così, con le tue labbra attorno a me, non vedo l'ora di esserti dentro, di averti dentro di me_ " and " _Mi sei mancato così tanto, Buck, te lo prometto, non ti lascerò mai più, sono qui, sono qui, sì, bravo, così..._ " – and Bucky had no zero clue what Steve just said, but it didn't matter. 

He'd managed to forget (and fuck, _how_ could he have forgotten?) just how responsive Steve was during sex, and the forceful reminder was the biggest turn-on Bucky could imagine. 

"I need to...Buck...come _here_." It was said in the raunchiest sort of growl Bucky had ever heard. Blindly, he obeyed, pulling off of Steve's cock to meet Steve's lips, all of his careful plans falling by the wayside in the sheer heat of the moment.

Each kiss was messy, frantic, with needy nips of teeth and the eager slide of Steve's tongue alongside his, and Bucky fell into it as he'd fallen into everything with Steve, with a sort of blind trust and overwhelming sense of easiness. He rutted against Steve's thigh, seeking some relief to the almost unbearable tightness in his groin, swallowed Steve's raspy grunts of pleasure with each kiss, ignoring the cramping of his fingers in the need to get Steve to keep making those noises.

Then Steve stiffened, tugged hard on his hair, and clamped down painfully over Bucky's hip with his other hand. "Oh _fuck_..."

Bucky pulled back as much as he could, lust and panic warring inside him as his gaze roamed over Steve's face, then he felt a warm wetness splashing on his forearm and Steve went completely boneless beneath him. _Oh. Okay, then._ "Did you just...yeah, never mind, that's...wow."

"Mmmm?" Steve's eyes were closed, but the hazy, satisfied smile on his face pretty much told the story. A quick glance down at the come spattering Steve's stomach confirmed it. Bucky slowly slid his fingers out of Steve's body, feeling both inordinately pleased with himself for getting Steve to come so fast, and a little disappointed that Steve had stopped him from bringing him off with his mouth. Not that there was anything wrong with what they'd done. Just, well. He'd maybe wanted to know if Steve also still tasted the same.

"I'm guessing I did okay?" he asked, ignoring his own erection to stretch out on his side beside Steve.

"Yep," Steve agreed happily, and cracked one eye open. "Were you gonna get in me or what?"

"Uh, what?" He...had Steve just...? _OhGod._

"Buck." Steve reached out and blindly grabbed Bucky's bicep. His thighs were still wide open, his hole still shiny and slick. "Get. Your. Dick. In. Me. _Now_."

Which, seriously, getting bossed around like that shouldn't have been that much of a _thing_ , but apparently it was, because Bucky just fumbled in his bedside drawer for a condom, and was way too embarrassingly quick about putting it on and coating it with more lube.

He knelt between Steve's thighs and guided his cock forward, pausing at the very last second. "You sure you're – holy shit!" he yelped, as Steve wrapped deceptively strong legs around the back of his thighs and yanked. Guess all that yoga really was good for something.

They both gave a low groan as Bucky started to push, sinking deeper and deeper until he'd bottomed out. His entire universe narrowed to the heat of Steve's body joined with his, the almost unbearable tightness surrounding his cock. He shifted, with the barest of strokes, biting his lip as Steve stretched under him, and smiled.

"Forgot just how good this feels," Steve murmured, wrapping his arms around Bucky's shoulders to draw him down.

"Me too," Bucky admitted, bending to get at Steve's lips as he started to rock back and forth. Ah, God...yes...hell yes, even, this was so good. Steve felt so fucking good under him, like next level grade-A awesome, he was maybe going to live here for the rest of his life.

"You doin' alright?" he asked in the hushed space between them, brushing away the fine sheen of sweat from Steve's forehead.

"Keep moving and I will be." 

"Yeah yeah, jeez, you're pushy," Bucky lamented, but obligingly quickened his pace ever-so-slightly, giving himself over to long, sure strokes and slow, deep kisses. This was so much better than Steve in his mouth, and that had been pretty fucking fantastic. But this – sweetly tight flesh gripping him as he moved, the friction overloading his senses until he could practically feel the kinetic energy sparking around them – there was nothing else like this. 

" _Komm schon, fick mich... nimm mich richtig, mein es Ernst_ ," which was, what, German? Klingon? Who cared, it was hot as fuck. Steve began rotating his hips in small circles, and Bucky went with it, still taking his time, relishing every moan. His thrusts were slow, steady, designed to prolong their pleasure, to draw it out and make it last. Steve's hand dug into his hip, a silent plea to move faster, but Bucky continued doing exactly what he was doing.

" _Buck_...c'mon..."

Bucky swooped down and nudged Steve's lips apart for another kiss. "Shhh, you came already, let me enjoy myself."

" _Du bringst mich noch um_ ," Steve muttered, then groaned out a strangled laugh. " _Ich fänd's toll, wenn du... wenn du's..._ja _... ein bisschen schneller genießen würdest..._"

Yeah, Bucky was still so lost on the actual words, but Steve kept bucking his hips up, trying to set the pace, and seriously, the language kink and the bossy bottom kink were doing major damage to his self-control, anyway. He sped up his movements, now pumping his hips in a fast rhythm that had Steve clawing at his back, creating thin welts, the pain another sweet counterpoint to the way Steve was clamping down around him. "You want faster?"

The only sound Steve made was a choked _yes_. But he moved his hips in time with Bucky, offered his lips for another volcanic kiss. Bucky continued his frantic pace, all thought of teasing now cast aside. He just wanted to come. 

"Close...you feel how close I am?" he breathed into Steve's mouth.

"Now, fuck, _now_..." It was at once a plea and a command, uttered in that still insanely bossy, and sexy as fuck, voice. 

He was so close, so goddamn close... Another stroke and then Bucky was flying, caught in the grips of the most intense orgasm he could ever remember. Steve held him tightly through the aftershocks, murmuring endearments, encouragement, while running light fingers along his spine. He floated along, hazy and dazed, all sweated out and dying of thirst, and as soon as he got his breath back, he was maybe going to run a dozen laps around the quad until the buzzing under his skin died down. 

After a few minutes of gulping in air and rediscovering the feeling in his fingers and toes, Bucky reluctantly pulled out, grabbing at the condom as he did. He felt about as stable as jello, but he wobbled into the bathroom anyway to clean himself up and throw the condom away, before coming back into the bedroom with a damp washcloth. Steve had only moved enough to starfish on the bed, impossibly taking up every bit of space. 

"Still okay?" he asked, handing Steve the washcloth. 

Steve managed a sleepy laugh as he wiped himself off. "If I was doing any better, I'd be off this plane of existence."

Sounded like a pretty good endorsement from where Bucky was standing. "Yeah, me too."

Steve patted the miniscule space next to him. "Come back here already." 

"Is this entire friends with bennies thing going to be you bossing me around in bed all the time?" Bucky mumbled, even as he tucked his head in the crook of Steve's shoulder and wrapped an arm around him to pull him closer.

"Maybe." Steve brushed a kiss to Bucky's hair. "You got a problem with that?"

Bucky lifted his head long enough to give Steve what he was sure was a blindingly self-satisfied smile. "Not really."

"Good, because it's my turn now," Steve said, and tugged Bucky up for another kiss that promised round two was pretty close at hand.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Sei bellissimo così, con le tue labbra attorno a me, non vedo l'ora di esserti dentro, di averti dentro di me_ " - "You're so beautiful like this, with your lips around me, I can't wait to be inside you, for you to be inside me"
> 
> _Mi sei mancato così tanto, Buck, te lo prometto, non ti lascerò mai più, sono qui, sono qui, sì, bravo, così..._ " – "I missed you so much, Buck, I promise, I'll never leave you again, I'm here, I'm here, yes, good, like that..."
> 
> _"Komm schon, fick mich... nimm mich richtig, mein es Ernst"_ \- "Come on, fuck me, take me, mean it"
> 
> _"Du bringst mich noch um"_ \- "You're gonna kill me" 
> 
> _"Ich fänd's toll, wenn du... wenn du's...ja...ein bisschen schneller genießen würdest..."_ \- "I'd appreciate it...if you'd...yes....enjoy it a bit faster..."


	8. Chapter 8

The next two weeks flew by in a flurry of classes and papers and research, an insane schedule made even more insane by the start of the actual baseball season, which ate into Bucky's already ridiculous lack of free time. Most nights, he'd dropped to his bed with his clothes still on, too exhausted to even think about getting undressed, and he woke up each morning feeling like he hadn't even slept. He needed about a week just to commune with his bed, but graduation was a long ways off, and he'd be damned if he allowed his GPA to suffer just because he was exhausted. 

But, it left precious little time for, well, anything resembling a social life with his friends, let alone doing anything with Steve. Which, he felt kinda bad about, since this whole booty call thing was still super new and all, but he had a lot riding on these next few months, and his classwork came first. He'd even had to cancel his last Calc study session with Steve due to a last-minute paper, but Steve had seemed pretty chill about it. Score one for the merits of casual sex or whatever. 

The upshot was, when Steve showed up during his clay mineralogy lab with a large envelope stuffed under his arm, Bucky had no idea why he was there.

"Hey, man." Steve rapped on the open door. "Am I interrupting?"

Bucky dragged his brain away from the chart he'd been studying, and gave Steve a blank look. "Uh, what?"

Steve stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, his smile bright and friendly and the most welcoming thing Bucky'd seen in days. His skinny jeans were riding low on his hips and Bucky found himself staring, mesmerized as always, by the loose-limbed way Steve moved. Like he had the body of a tank and took up a lot more space than he did. The confidence in it was just as crazily alluring as ever, and just as bad for Bucky's concentration.

"I guess this is where the magic happens?" Steve asked, glancing around the room.

"Sure, magic." Bucky tore his gaze away from the way Steve's shirt rode up, exposing the sharp cut of Steve's adonis belt. "What're, um, why're you...um."

Steve waved the envelope Bucky's way. "Well, my class got cancelled, so I thought you might want to see this."

Bucky would cheerfully kill someone for a cancelled class, and he maybe wasn't even joking about that, either. "See what?"

Steve's chuckle was low and throaty and stupidly erotic. He slid the envelope across the table. "Wow, you _have_ been pretty buried, haven't you? Just open it."

Bucky flicked the clasp and pulled out the heavy piece of paper. "Oh...okay wow," he breathed, then let out a high-pitched laugh. "Dude, this is...wow, this is so...holy shit."

Steve looked over Bucky's shoulder at the drawing. His hair flopped over to fall in his face, hiding his expression. "I hope that's a good holy shit."

"Yeah, are you kidding, it's...it's amazing, it's..." Bucky trailed off as he traced the lines with a delicate touch. 

It was obviously the portrait Steve had done the day Bucky'd posed for him. Steve had drawn him asleep, with one hand flung behind his head and his nude body in full repose, sort of open and vulnerable, but Steve had also managed to make him look a little like an ancient Greek Olympian, with fluidly defined muscles and an intrinsic sort of grace that Bucky knew he totally didn't have. Steve had made him look both beautiful and seriously badass, which was some next level shit.

"It's...really fucking great," he finally said, cursing his inadequacy with words.

"Thank you." Steve looked pleased with himself, if the little smile and faint blush were anything to go by. It was adorable and kinda ridiculous and Bucky maybe dug the shit out of it. He found himself drawn to it, leaning forward to place a light kiss to those full lips.

"Thank _you_ ," he said, when he pulled back. "I don't have anything this cool as a return gift – oh wait, I kinda do, hold on." 

Steve rocked back on his heels, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Is it bigger than a breadbox?"

Bucky grabbed the box sitting in the corner and brought it to the table. "Uh no?" he said, digging around the contents for a minute until he found what he'd wanted.

"Is it at least shiny? I like shiny things."

"No?" Then Bucky glanced up and saw the amusement shining out of those expressive blue eyes. "Dude, it's not a diamond. That's not the kind of rock I study."

Narrow shoulders slumped in exaggerated disappointment. "And here I was hoping we could make it official."

Bucky snorted, amused. "Somehow I don't see you as the marrying type." He dropped a rough-edged, black and white speckled stone into Steve's open palm. "But it _is_ a rock, if that helps."

"I can see that." Steve held it up, turned it so the light reflected off the edges, creating a prism of silvery-green.

"It's, um, it's diorite. Sort of a quartz, but mostly hornblende and biotite and andesine...and I'll stop, sorry, I'm getting all technical geek here," Bucky apologized. He felt like the world's biggest dork. "Anyway, ancient civilizations used it for paving their roads, which is just, like...okay, so, think of what that must've been like. All of these roads in Mesopotamia just glittering all black and silver and green, leading to the old cities, the way the sun must've made them sparkle like jewels. It's just...cool to think about."

Steve clutched the rock tight in his fist. His smile was indecipherable, but filled with so much warmth that Bucky felt like he'd never be cold again. "And you claim you have no art in your soul," Steve told him, the warmth of his voice matching that smile.

Immediately, Bucky could feel the blush suffuse his cheeks. "Uh...well...thanks?"

"It's gorgeous and I love it, thank you. Even if it's not a diamond," Steve added, with an exaggerated wink.

Bucky's shoulders relaxed as he returned the joke. Banter he could handle. Sincerity left him tongue-tied. "Well, I figured I'd save that for our year anniversary."

"You always were a big one for planning ahead." Steve nodded, then cast him a sideways glance, his long lashes fluttering outrageously. "Will we spend our honeymoon someplace in the mountains, spelunking, or on a dig looking for more diorite?"

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. _Spelunking_. Classic. "Nah," he said, "working on your honeymoon's just bad manners. Besides, shouldn't all honeymoons be near a beach?"

"Morning sex with the ocean breeze drifting in through the open windows, I like the way you think." Steve pointed at the table, gesturing at the charts and high-powered microscope Bucky'd been using. "So, uh, tell me more about what you do now. What is all of this stuff?"

"Research, mostly."

"Into?" Steve prompted, with a curious look.

"Wait, you really want to know?" This was a first. Back in high school, Steve had been supportive in his own way, but he hadn't exactly acted like he wanted to know more about Bucky's work, either.

"Yeah, I do." Steve pulled up a stool and sat, giving Bucky his full attention. "Start from the top."

"Uh, okay, if you're sure." Yeah, Bucky loved getting all geeked out about what he was doing, but it didn't exactly translate well to the non-scientist crowd. But, hey, if Steve wanted to learn, then Bucky was happy to talk. "Well, right now I'm doing a lot of study on environmental chemistry. Which, uh, is a lot of using stable isotopes to trace and study biological or environmental processes." 

When Steve just looked on in interest, Bucky continued, warming to his subject. Most of his friends had no idea what he did and, when he tried to explain, their eyes glazed over like Bucky was speaking Greek. Like Steve used to do, once upon a time.

"See, all elements have isotopes, right, which means the atoms of any element can have different forms that contain different numbers of neutrons in their nucleus." He paused. "Are you sure about this? I feel like one of my professors right now."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Steve replied. "Keep going."

"Uh, okay, so, um." He lifted one of the charts. "See, like, here, the number of electrons and protons stays the same – that's what defines which element it is. And isotopes are named by something called the mass number, which is the number of protons plus the number of neutrons."

Steve nodded in understanding. "The total number of particles in the nucleus of the atom, got it."

Bucky ducked his head a little, pleased that Steve was so quick to catch on. Someone had paid attention in chemistry class back in high school, apparently. "Exactly. And, well, some of these isotopes are stable. Like, they don't change, even after billions of years. And we can use those to assess climate change in the past." 

"Wait, how?" Steve blinked, leaning in to look at the chart. "That's...okay, I have no idea what any of those numbers mean, but I'm listening."

Bucky let out a small laugh. "Well, because O-18 is heavier than O-16 – that's, uh, that's oxygen, by the way, sorry –"

Steve grinned. "I figured."

Bucky grinned back. "Anyway, that means that any water molecule containing O-18 will be heavier than one containing O-16, which _also_ means that when water vapor cools down and precipitates, O-18 will form the liquid or solid first." 

"Which sounds super cool, but what's that got to do with climate change?"

Bucky pointed to another chart. "Because it means we can measure the ratio of oxygen isotopes in ice cores from Greenland or Antarctica, _and_ then the relative amount of O-18 to O-16 in ancient ice can be correlated to the mean global temperature."

"Ah, okay, that's...pretty neat." Steve looked at Bucky expectantly. "But, you said only some of the isotopes were stable, though."

"Oh, right." No one had ever asked Bucky to _keep_ talking about his field outside of his professors or other classmates. And not only was Steve still with him, but he still looked engaged and interested. It was...well, it was nice. Like, super cool nice. 

"Uh, well, there are also radiogenic isotopes. And those undergo radioactive decay over time, which means they shed energy and particles until they eventually reach a stable form. And this is how we date the age of rocks." 

"I was wondering where the rocks came in," Steve remarked, chuckling. 

"Yeah, it's...okay, so if you can make a good enough guess on how much of the initial radiogenic isotope was present when the rock was formed, you can measure how much of the decayed product is present now, and use that to calculate the amount of time the rock has existed." Bucky gestured at the diorite still clutched in Steve's fist. "I mean, it's a lot more complicated than that, but, like, that's the gist of it."

Once again, Steve nodded. "So, it's like carbon dating?"

"Sort of," Bucky answered, certain he had to be beaming from the inside out. Holy shit, this was the _coolest_. "And then there are cosmogenic isotopes, which measures how long a surface has been exposed to the sun, but that's not exactly my area of expertise. Astronomers use it to tell about cosmic energy hitting the earth...and now I've totally lost you," he said, noting Steve's slight frown.

"Somewhat, sorry." Steve shrugged, and Bucky could tell he genuinely meant it. "But it's nice to see you animated and happy. I don't think I ever got how much you loved this, before."

"It's okay." Bucky fiddled with one of the microscope knobs. "It's a pretty specialized field. Most people get bored to tears when I start talking about it."'

Steve bumped Bucky's shoulder, then grabbed his hand to lace their fingers together. "Fuck everyone else, including me."

"That's not what I meant –"

"No, I'm serious, this is important to you." Steve squeezed his fingers, his eyes wide and sincere. "I'm sorry I didn't pay attention before, but...I get it. This is your creative outlet. Your calling. That _thing_ that lights you up, and...it's a really fucking good look on you, Buck. I'm glad you have it."

And, yeah, Bucky thought, returning Steve's smile, maybe Steve really did get it. And just knowing that Steve had tried for him was...well, it was probably the nicest thing anyone had done for him in a really long time.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. So..." Steve gave him an under those ridiculously long lashes look. "You expecting anyone else?"

Bucky shook his head. "No, I'm almost always the last person here."

"Good," Steve said, his smile getting bigger. "Ever fooled around in the lab?"

Bucky's jaw worked, his entire brain fizzling like carbonated water. "Um..."

"I'm gonna take that as a no, then," Steve said, and dropped to his knees before Bucky could make another sound. And he might've objected, maybe, but then Steve's fingers were already unbuttoning his jeans, and there wasn't room for anything else in his head other than the promise of the wet heat of Steve's mouth.

***

Six AM was ungodly in the best of times, but on a Saturday, it was like the worst sort of cruelty. It took three failed attempts before Bucky was able to force himself away from the solid warmth of Steve's body next to his (luckily, for him, Steve slept like the dead and didn't even flinch at the alarm), and stumble to the shower. The cold water woke him up just enough so that he felt marginally more human, but it didn't really help. Sam looked just as rough when he and Rhodey came by to collect him before they all set off towards the field, where they were immediately put through their paces running a stupid amount of drills that shouldn't even be legally allowed.

"Coach Coulson's a fucking sadist," Bucky panted, then flopped on the grass in a heap. He didn't think he could move if his life depended on it. Fuck Georgia in the late spring; he felt like he'd been running inside a sauna. Had to be a billion degrees out today and here they were, out doing wind sprints and relay drills because that was supposed to help them win games or whatever the hell, when what they really needed was pitching that didn't suck balls.

"I'm done, man," Sam groaned, as he face-planted beside Bucky, his thin t-shirt soaked with sweat, all splayed out on the grass like he was trying to make snow angels or something. "Why can't I have coffee again? It's just cruel making me run like this when I'm not even awake."

"Because it dries your system out," Rhodey replied, and sat on the grass beside Sam. "You can have some later." Of the three of them, he was the only one that looked remotely like something close to human and not a giant blob of sweaty flesh. Then again, Rhodey was the only one of them who was shirtless, which probably explained it. Of course, if Bucky was rocking abs like Rhodey's, he'd probably go shirtless while running, too. But then, probably not, since he knew he'd feel like everyone was staring at him and checking him out. 

"I hate Coach Coulson."

"Ditto."

"You both get up early on school days," Rhodey pointed out.

"Different," Bucky stated. The sun was barely creeping up over the horizon of trees, which was, just, totally made of so much fail. "This is Saturday." And he and Steve had maybe been up way too late the night before watching old Vine compilations before Steve had planted himself on Bucky's lap and ridden his dick until they were both blissfully fucked out.

"And Saturday means sleeping in," Sam continued. "Mmmmm...sleep..."

"Tell me why we're putting ourselves through this again?" Bucky asked. His legs seriously felt like rubber. If he thought he could crawl, let alone walk, he'd cheerfully murder someone for a glass of water. 

"Chicks dig athletes and musicians, and we can't play any musical instruments for dick, so Rhodey keeps telling me," Sam replied, and wiped at his forehead with the hem of his shirt.

"That didn't stop the Sex Pistols," Bucky pointed out.

"Or Creed," Rhodey supplied, then cried "OW!" when Sam sat up long enough to thunk his forehead. "What the fuck?"

"Mentioning Creed in my presence, goddamn, what is _wrong_ with you."

"I was making a point."

"So was I." 

Bucky held up his hands for a time-out. "C'mon, guys, you know how much I hate it when you fight..."

"You love it," Sam argued. "I think you enjoy my suffering."

"I think it's the other way around."

"Semantics."

"Alright, c'mon, break's over," Rhodey said, with that same sigh he always got when Bucky and Sam started acting a little too much like squabbling siblings, and got slowly back to his feet. He held out a hand to Sam. "You two can argue over who's the worse friend later."

"I don't like you right now," Sam complained, even as he took Rhodey's hand and stood, swaying a little.

Rhodey rubbed a hand over Sam's head and grinned. "But you still love me, and I'm a simple man, so that's all I need."

"I hate you more when you're logical."

"You think it's sexy," Rhodey countered, and placed a light, but lingering kiss to Sam's lips, before jogging off.

"I only put up with you because I love your ass!" Sam called, and laughed when Rhodey just gave him the finger and kept moving. "I swear, if I didn't love him so much, I'd hate his fucking guts. He's lucky he's got mad skills."

Unbidden, Bucky's thoughts drifted to Steve and the lightness of his fingers and the cleverness of his tongue and the way his dick fit so perfectly when he was balls deep in Bucky's ass. Which, not something he really needed to linger on, especially while wearing pretty thin running shorts where his best friend could look down and, like, _notice_. "Yeah, maybe don't mention Rhodey's mad skills around me ever."

"You know better than to give me that kinda ammo." Then he motioned at Bucky to get up. "C'mon, brother, up and at 'em. You're too young to move like an old man."

"Yeah, yeah, I fucking feel eighty right now," Bucky grumbled, too worn out to take offense, even as he rolled to his feet. 

They set off down the path, at a more sedate pace. Thankfully, the sun had disappeared behind a wall of clouds. Bucky almost wished it would start raining, just to cool him off a little bit.

After a couple of minutes, Sam nudged at his side. "So, speaking of mad skills, how're things going with Steve?" 

Bucky shrugged and kept moving. One foot in front of the other, he could do it. "Good, I guess."

"You guess?" Sam asked, casting him a quick, pointed glance.

"Yeah, we're...it's good." They started the downhill slope, finally, and Bucky's thighs stopped screaming bloody murder. 

"That's all I get?" Sam asked, with a disappointed sigh. "You're not even gonna tell me what the sex is like now and if Steve still makes you all weak-kneed after he –"

"Oh my God, shut _up_." Bucky gave a quick look around, but thankfully, it was just him and Sam and the trees. Not that the trees needed to know about his sex life, either, but it was better than Thor lurking nearby or Coach Coulson. "You're the fucking worst, you know that."

Before Bucky could stomp off, Sam grabbed his shirt and pulled him back next to him. "C'mon, calm down. I was just kidding around. Buuuuuuuuck, c'mon, you know you can't stay mad at me..."

"You're not funny," Bucky grumbled, but without too much heat. Sam seemed sincere enough.

"Sure I am," Sam replied, with one of his patented sunny grins. "All sex is funny when you think about it."

"Maybe when you think about it all clinical-like..."

"Hey, I'm not saying it's not more awesome than Dairy Queen Blizzards, because, not even the Heath Bar Extravaganza could compare with sex, but...I dunno, I think you take it too seriously, man."

"I take everything seriously," Bucky reminded him, because, well. Duh. It was like Sam didn't even know him. Then again, Bucky was convinced that Sam had been born without a shy bone in his body. Or the need for an inside voice.

Sam nudged Bucky's shoulder with his own. "So? Seriously, how is everything going with your little arrangement?"

"It's great. I mean, we get together when we can, the sex is" – amazing and better than it had ever been back in high school and Bucky wasn't sure when he'd ever come so hard so many times – "really good and we...we get along outside that."

"Sounds ideal," Sam commented, mildly. Too mildly.

Bucky cast him a suspicious look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, man, I'm happy if you're happy."

Which, Bucky wasn't entirely sure that Sam actually meant that either, but Coach started yelling at them from the bottom of the hill to pick up the pace, and he figured it wasn't worth making a big deal over.

***


	9. Chapter 9

Steve looked up with a smile when Bucky knocked on his open door, and snagged his Calculus textbook from his desk. "Hey you."

"Sorry, I got held up in Eco Geo," Bucky said, bending to give Steve a soft kiss. "Figured by the time I texted, I'd be halfway here already."

"No worries." Steve hooked a finger in the collar of Bucky's t-shirt to drag him down for another kiss, complete with that hot-as-hell possessive tongue sweep that never failed to get Bucky hard.

Bucky exhaled slowly when Steve finally let him up for air. "You keep that up, and we're not getting any studying done."

Steve's eyes danced in amusement, but he let Bucky go. "In that case, we should head out to the quad," he said, and stood. "I've been cooped up inside classrooms and the studio all day, anyway, so the fresh air'll be nice."

"Sure." When they walked out of the room, Bucky noticed the piece of diorite he'd given Steve was sitting in a prominent position on his desk, just in front of a framed picture of Steve's parents on their wedding day.

Steve snagged Bucky's hand as they walked down the steps and headed out into the quad, which was...new. Bucky glanced down pointedly, then lifted his brow in question. Steve just shrugged. "If you're not cool with it..."

"I didn't say that." Bucky tightened his grip, just so Steve got the memo. "I just didn't figure you for the holding hands type." He'd always seemed too prickly, too fiercely independent and in charge for something as...well, as sappy romantic as holding hands with someone on a nice spring afternoon.

"Well, maybe I like surprising you," Steve replied, and led Bucky to one of the sun-warmed benches.

"You've been doing that since the day we met," Bucky told him, truthfully.

They both settled in, Steve leaning against the bench arm and throwing his legs over Bucky's lap like he normally did when they were hanging together in Steve's room. He tilted his face up to the sun and closing his eyes with a small sound of approval. He reminded Bucky of a cat.

"Days like this make me happy to be here, y'know?"

"Yeah." Bucky took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. He could practically feel the tension between his shoulders dissolve as the breeze caressed his skin. "It's not often I'm outside just for the fun of it."

"You should work on that." Steve rapped his knuckles across Bucky's overstuffed backpack. "Life's about more than schoolwork and being the perfect student."

"So I've been told." Bucky was still trying to work his way around that balance. He nudged Steve's knee with a finger. "Speaking of, where do you see yourself in five years? Got any plans after you finally graduate or are you just winging it?" 

"I have no idea. I'd like to do some more traveling, see the world, and keep pushing myself, technique-wise and inspiration-wise."

Bucky could totally picture Steve someplace exotic and wild, barefoot and shirtless, with even more freckles or a tan, hair growing like a weed and maybe sporting a Picasso beard, with his sketchpad in hand and finding beauty in the most unlikely of places. It was a hella nice image. "Is that what you were doing the last few years? Seeing the world, I mean?"

"Mostly Europe, but yeah." Steve smoothed his hair back into a topknot with a couple of deft moves. "I had some money from the sale of the house after Mom, y'know –"

"Yeah." Bucky'd always liked Sarah Rogers, and she'd seemed to love Bucky and Peggy and Sam, and knowing that her son had a close-knit circle of friends. Her illness and death had sucked all the way around. 

"Yeah," Steve agreed, flashing Bucky a grateful look when Bucky grabbed hold of his hand. "Anyway, I spent a lot of time in Italy and Germany and Spain, just...learning. Painting. Talking with and being around other artists. Like, I dunno, soaking in as much knowledge as I could, like a sponge."

It was the first time Steve had even obliquely mentioned those lost years, and Bucky wasn't about to push for more info just to satisfy his burning curiosity. Steve was just as liable to shut down, and that was the last thing Bucky wanted. "Well it worked, I mean...you were super talented before, but now, you're like..." Bucky squeezed Steve's fingers. "What you can do now is...genius."

Steve's smile was sweet and shy, a small upcurve of lips that was nevertheless more vibrant than the sun overhead. "Thanks, Buck." 

"Did you always know that you wanted to be an artist?" He couldn't remember ever seeing Steve without a sketchpad or his tablet nearby.

"I guess." Steve tapped at his temple. "I can't remember _not_ having the images in my head, know what I mean?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." Bucky gave a self-deprecating smile. "I mean, it's not sexy like what _you_ see, but I think I'd be lost without all of the equations in my head."

"When did you know? That studying the ages of rocks was your jam, I mean."

"I dunno, since forever, I think. I was always fascinated with them, what makes them the same and different and what they can tell us about the history of our planet, y'know? It's totally wild shit. I mean, it's not glamorous, but glamour's overrated."

"Definitely," Steve agreed, then gave Bucky a sly smile. "Maybe I'll come with you on one of your field trips and draw you in action. The intrepid researcher in his natural element. I'd do an entire series on you."

Funnily enough, Bucky thought Steve would fit in with his fellow scientists just fine. Most of them were even more eccentric and bossy than Steve, if that was possible, although Steve was the only one who made being bossy an aphrodisiac. "If you like bugs and sleeping in tiny tents in freezing weather, sure, come along. You could keep the rest of us from going full-bore geek."

Steve's eyes dropped to Bucky's lips as he licked across his own with a quick swipe of his tongue. "Oh, I dunno, I think I could find a way to warm you up if you were cold."

Yeah, Bucky thought to himself, breath catching in his throat. Somehow he didn't see that being a problem. "C'mon, we're in public..."

Steve scooted closer. "You could always shut me up..."

"That's..." Okay, scratch that, shutting Steve up sounded like an amazing idea, but they were supposed to be studying. "You're a fucking menace," he said, shaking his head fondly.

"Worth a shot," Steve said, lifting Bucky's hand to place a quick kiss to his knuckles.

" _Menace_ ," Bucky repeated, then: "Did you mean it? About coming along on one of my trips one day?"

Steve instantly went from teasing to serious in the blink of an eye. "Absolutely. Just say when and I'm there."

"Really?" Bucky blinked in surprise. "Like, you...what, want to keep doing this? I mean, uh, after I graduate?" Which, he wasn't sure exactly how a booty call thing was supposed to work long-distance, since Bucky would be in grad school at UT come fall, but he was game to try to figure something out.

"Austin's a cool town, why wouldn't I visit?" Steve asked, then continued, "I like being with _you_ , Buck." He had that same serious look, like maybe he was trying to see inside Bucky's head or his soul or something. "I'm good with anything and everything we do together, as long as it's you. Understand?"

Bucky could feel his heart beating uncomfortably loud in his chest. This was a little intense. "Just...it just...seems like a lot of effort for sex, is all I'm saying. Which, uh, don't get me wrong, no objections, but...as good as you are at it, the, uh, the sex, I mean" – Like, he should be teaching classes good – "you could find, like, anyone. Like, local, I mean."

Of course, Bucky knew exactly what he was getting out of this whole arrangement, but he wasn't sure why Steve was with _him_ and not with someone with a lot more in the way of experience and skills and such. Bucky had mad enthusiasm on his side, but that was about it.

Steve was silent for a few uncomfortable beats, then he sighed. "For someone as smart as you are, sometimes, I swear to fucking God..." He paused, then sighed again. "Look, it's a gorgeous day, let's just...get you through this next chapter, then maybe make out on the grass like every other couple out here, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, sounds good," Bucky said, happy to agree with anything if it wiped that look off of Steve's face. He had a feeling he'd missed something important, but, for the life of him, couldn't figure out what.

***

Bucky was analytical by nature (which explained his choice of major, as well as his stick-in-the-mud personality, if one listened to Sam, which Bucky didn't, because anyone that was majoring in freaking economics had zero room to talk about being analytical), so it didn't come as a shock to him when, about two months into this... _thing_...with Steve, he started to find himself scrutinizing it like it was a puzzle he wanted to solve.

It had been remarkably easy to fall into a sort of pattern. Well, as much as anyone could fall into anything resembling a pattern with a guy who practiced yoga while listening to death metal and randomly showed up with a sketchpad during Bucky's labs to draw him – and had zero compunctions about going to his knees to blow Bucky's brains out through his dick (not that Bucky was complaining about that part) – and settled right back into the fabric of Bucky's life almost like he'd never left. It was weird, except in all the ways that it wasn't.

They managed to get together a couple of times a week outside of the Tuesday study group, and even spent time together on weekends when Steve was in town (Bucky still hadn't managed to figure out where Steve went off to) and Bucky didn't have a game or all of the reading ever to catch up on. It was sort of like an actual relationship, except for the part where they never went on dates or even talked all that much except about schoolwork, and mostly just had a metric ton of really fucking great sex.

But he still wondered from time to time why Steve was slumming it with Bucky when he could be having (probably) way better sex with someone else. Or several someone elses. Maybe even all at once. For that matter, why was Steve even at UGA to begin with since, the nearest Bucky could tell, he didn't seem to care one way or another about most of his classes. Sure, he was doing well in them, but it wasn't like he was enthusiastic about any of them, either. And he didn't have that thin veneer of panic and desperation that most of the other students had (Bucky included) when it came time for tests or exams or anything else academic related.

For the most part, Steve just...went about his day. Showed up to his classes, did his required homework, and spent the bulk of his time either in one of the studios or outside somewhere hunched over his sketchpad or tablet. And, that worked for him, or it seemed to, but it was still just...weird. But, most of the time, Bucky had too much of his own shit going on to worry about Steve, so he tended not to dwell on it. And the few times he did try to bring it up in conversation, Steve either changed the subject or Bucky got distracted by Steve's naked body or whatever Steve was doing to him, and trying to press the issue when he could be getting laid instead seemed pretty stupid. 

And Bucky considered himself to be a smart person most of the time.

***

Peggy's off-campus apartment was teeming with too many people, and way too much noise from the blare of the music pumping from the speakers and the din of too many voices raised in an effort to be heard over it. Not exactly Bucky's idea of a fun night, but he'd promised Peggy he'd show up to her Closing-Night-slash-You-Survived-Midterms-Yaye party and be sociable, so here he was, trying to pretend he was a typical college student on a Saturday night. He thought maybe the entire theatre department was here, as well as the entire football team. Danny, Peggy's latest boytoy (her phrase, not Bucky's), was a running back for the Bulldogs, and had most likely invited all of his friends to counteract all of Peggy's. Which, Danny was nice enough, but not remotely what one would call intellectual, and when Bucky mentioned once that Peggy was totally out of Danny's league, she'd told him that Danny was talented enough for what she wanted from him. And, well, Bucky couldn't rightly argue with it, because Danny was pretty built.

He waved to Peggy and Sam from across the living room, who were both surrounded by a group of people that Bucky didn't know, then pointed in the direction of the small kitchen and mimed getting a drink. If he was expected to make small talk with people he'd either never met or barely knew, he figured he may as well try to get a small buzz on. Liquid courage and all that. 

He was pleasantly surprised to see Tony hanging out by the cooler. At least someone he knew was within shouting distance if things got too much for him to handle.

"Hey, man." Tony had a joint in one hand, and a bottle of beer in the other. His smile was familiar and welcoming, had Bucky smiling in return. "What can I do for you tonight?"

"Uh, if you're tending bar, a Bud Light'll work."

Tony clamped the joint between his teeth and bent to fish a bottle out of the cooler, handing it to Bucky. "Slumming it with piss water, I see."

The sweetness of the smoke from the pot filled his lungs. "Well, I've got a pretty light head for the hard stuff, so I normally stick to beer."

"Not judging, it's all good with me." Tony held out the joint. "You want a hit?"

"Uh." Bucky'd only tried pot a couple of times with Nat, which had been fun, but not something he felt a deep need to try again. 

Thankfully, Steve ambled up to their group, and saved him from answering. "Hey, Tony, hey, Buck."

Tony transferred the joint from Bucky's direction to Steve's. "Hey, how's it goin'? Wanna hit?"

"Sure." Steve took it, and inhaled, deep and long, cheeks hollowing the way they did when he was sucking Bucky's dick nice and slow, and yeah, maybe Bucky needed to look at something else for a minute.

"So, uh." He turned to Tony, and took a hasty sip of his beer to try to combat the dryness of his throat, "How's your...uh...that big project you and Rhodey are working on?" 

Tony took the joint back for the sort of inhale that probably would register him for merman status somewhere. Talk about some serious lung capacity. After what felt like forever, he let out a hissing stream of smoke, and shrugged. "Eh, still in trials, so who knows, Rhodey and Bruce and I may end up blowing up the lab, but we may also create a completely new element, which would rock. Either way, we'll be legends."

"Blowing shit up is cool," Steve agreed, with a bright grin.

"Oh, sure, totally," Bucky said, even though he was a little horrified at the idea of anyone treating a project or lab so cavalierly.

Steve started swaying to the low, bass-thumping beat pouring through the speakers. "Hey, you wanna dance?"

Bucky paused with the bottle to his lips. "What? Are you asking me?"

In answer, Steve just led Bucky to the center of the living room. A second later, Bucky found himself gently moving along to the tune with Steve tucked into his arms, all hard angles and firm muscle. 

"Uh...how long've you been here?" Bucky asked, just to fill the silence somehow.

Slender shoulders lifted. "Ten minutes, give or take." His lips were full and red, eyes long-lashed and half-lidded, like he'd already been totally debauched and loved the hell out of every single second of it. Bucky couldn't stop staring.

"Yeah. Me too," Bucky said softly. They moved as fluidly with the music as they did when they were in bed together, and, before he could talk himself out of it, he bent his head to rub their lips together. The kiss – if it could be called that – was over as quickly as it had begun.

Steve just stared back at him, not moving. "Satisfied?" he asked, in a barely audible voice.

"Not really." He wasn't sure he'd ever get enough of Steve's mouth. He leaned in again, this time allowing himself to linger, stealing Steve's gasp with the next kiss. Steve's lips were soft and way too sweet, a counter to the hint of stubble rasping across Bucky's chin, the taste of him sharp and addictive as fuck. 

Steve's face was flushed, bright blue eyes fluttering open, when Bucky lifted his head the second time. It was a damn good look for him. "Much better," Steve said.

"You wanna get out of here, maybe head back to my place?" Bucky asked, his voice as soft as Steve's. 

Steve toyed with the hairs along Bucky's nape. Bucky shivered at the touch. "You sure you're willing to risk Peggy's wrath by leaving when you just got here?"

"I – um –" Bucky's brain was still buzzing from the kiss. Or maybe it was the lingering taste of secondhand pot on his tongue. Or possibly from the fact that Steve was still plastered against him, hotter than a furnace and all but vibrating with want, his dick a hard, insistent line pressing against Bucky's hip. "She'll understand."

Steve's smile was friendly, but held more than a hint of playfulness. "You know better, but sure, I can always shield you if she lays into you later." He dragged his thumb across Bucky's lower lip, a blatant invitation. "Come on, before she finds us."

A burst of heat raced through Bucky's body, obliterating everything that wasn't the promise of getting his hands on Steve in a much more private setting. "Lead the way."

They kept stopping at various points on the walk back to Bucky's dorm to make out, hands roaming everywhere, every sultry, slow kiss the best sort of foreplay. By the time they stumbled through the door, both leaning into each other and breathless, Bucky was painfully hard, and all he wanted to do was get off and get Steve off as quickly as possible.

"Steve, I need –" He could barely think around the fog of lust clouding his brain, could barely move he was so paralyzed by the _want_ racing through his bloodstream. 

"Shhhh...it's okay...let's take it down a notch, alright." Steve stepped right into Bucky's personal space, and cupped his cheek. 

Warm lips brushed the corner of his mouth, butterfly-light. Bucky turned into it, seeking more. His hands still trembled slightly when he slid them up Steve's chest to cup his jaw, the kiss still a slow, voluptuous slide of lips on lips. The trembling turned into outright shaking when Steve moved his hands under Bucky's shirt, every touch an electric shock. Then Steve moved his hands back down to cup Bucky's ass and pulled him so they were flush against each other. Bucky could feel how hard he was, and the thought of it – that he was the reason for it – left him desperate and aching. Assured hands slid his t-shirt off his body, then trailed back down, and Bucky gasped at the contact, already sensitized nerves kicking up a notch at the callused fingertips running over newly bared skin.

Steve turned away from his lips, began to trail kisses along Bucky's shoulders and collarbones. He looked almost silver in the moonlight that shone in from the window – ethereal, perfect and unattainable. And, just as impossibly, he was Bucky's, at least physically.

"Tell me what feels good," Steve said, as he walked Bucky backwards to the bed, and pushed him onto the mattress.

Fuck, did Steve even need to ask? "Everything," he replied, gasping again when Steve settled beside him and continued his lazy exploration of Bucky's body, like everything he was doing wasn't wrecking Bucky from the outside in.

"What about this, then?" Steve asked, and ran his tongue along a vein on Bucky's tricep.

Bucky could only flex his arm and clench his teeth as he let out a hissed breath. "It's...yessssssss...."

"And this?" Bucky just about jumped off the bed when Steve closed his mouth over a flat nipple and tugged, the contrast between the heat of his mouth and the sharpness of his teeth incinerating Bucky's very bones.

"Jesus yes..." Amazing how the tenor of the night could change so fast. He was back to shaking and trembling, an absolute mess.

Steve drew down the zipper of Bucky's jeans, and slid them off before grabbing the lube from the bedside table. He quickly drizzled some on his fingers, then closed them over Bucky's straining erection. "And this?" The question was barely a whisper, but whipped through the air like a storm, electric and untamed.

"Perfect," Bucky managed, and then Steve moved down to cup his balls, rolling each one around in a light grip, and he stopped thinking altogether. He just responded to every teasing movement, every fleeting touch, so attuned with Steve's actions that he felt like maybe they'd mind-melded.

"Tell me what you want, Buck." 

"More...you...please..." The word ended on a choked gasp as Steve moved back up to encircle his cock.

"Do you want my mouth?" Steve asked, with a too-fleeting kiss. "Do you want to fuck me?" He lowered his lips to the delicate flesh on Bucky's neck, tasting and tempting in equal measure. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

Every question strained Bucky's already thin control. _All_ of it. He wanted all of it, wanted to experience, in every possible way, what it was like to crawl inside Steve's body and to have Steve crawl inside of his. He wanted to do his own tasting and teasing, wanted to make Steve lose control and cry out with desire and shake and shiver in his arms. He wanted Steve to take him apart and put him back together, wanted whatever Steve wanted, because he trusted Steve would never lead him on a wrong path.

" _Please_." He didn't even know what he was begging for, only that he wanted, he wanted, God, how he wanted, and only Steve could bring him relief.

Steve's lips pressed against his again, slow, sweet, a marked contrast to the tight, slick fist still driving him wild. "Look at me."

Bucky blinked open clouded eyes, and found he couldn't look away. There was something new in Steve's expression, a feral kind of possessiveness that made Bucky burn even hotter than before. There was something not quite tame in the compact body that was pressing him into the mattress, in the way Steve grabbed onto his wrist with his free hand, clamping down hard enough to leave bruises Bucky knew he'd wear with pride. And there was something wild and raw in Steve's voice when he spoke, every word spearing through him with unflinching accuracy.

"All of this" – he gave Bucky's cock another quick stroke – "belongs to me. Every inch of you is mine."

 _Holy fuck_ was Bucky's only thought before Steve's mouth claimed his in a voracious kiss that incinerated and vaporized every molecule in his body. Bucky clutched at Steve's shoulder as sharp teeth sank into Bucky's lower lip and that tight fist moved over Bucky’s cock in steady, fast strokes. Bucky had no time to breathe, no time to do anything at all other than react, to be _taken_ , drowning in shattering kisses and blazing fingers. He came almost immediately, his orgasm practically punched out of him, as Steve swallowed his muffled moan of release with another bold swipe of his tongue, and another kiss that had Bucky aching for more already.

"Jesus..." Bucky's chest heaved as he struggled for air. He was maybe dead, and drifting in the afterlife and that was fine with him, because what a way to go. "Wherever you...learned to...thumbs up." 

"Let's just say I've been wanting to experiment a little bit," Steve said, as his lips slid along the hollow of Bucky's throat. 

"Yaye science," Bucky murmured, as he stroked lazy fingers along Steve's spine. 

Steve's return smile was all mischief. "I dunno if you can call it _science_ yet. It's barely a theory at this point."

"Oh, well." Bucky nodded solemnly. "In that case, I totally volunteer my body. In the name of research."

Once again, Steve lowered his lips to Bucky's. "I admire your sacrifice. History will thank you for it."

Bucky was pretty sure he'd be fine with whatever research Steve needed from him, whenever he needed it. "But now...I think I need to...y'know, return the favor," he said, sliding a hand between them to start pulling at Steve's zipper and pushing his jeans off. Fair was only fair, after all.

Steve's heartfelt groan was music to Bucky's ears. "I like your ideas."

"I thought you might," Bucky replied, before pouring some lube on his fingers and closing the small space between them. He took his time finding his tempo – what made Steve make those sexy, deep-throated growls, what made him clutch at Bucky's shoulders like Bucky was the only thing tethering him to the earth – and studied every flicker of emotion on Steve's expressive face like he was going to be graded later. Judging by Steve's reaction, it seemed pretty safe to bet he was passing the class with flying colors.

"How's that feel?" he asked, surprised at how husky his voice sounded, and twisted his wrist in a way that he knew Steve loved.

"Great, yes, just..." Steve started, then slanted his mouth over Bucky's, messy and heated, as he pumped his hips in a disjointed rhythm. He was still kissing Bucky like his life depended on it when he came, sticky and hot, over Bucky's fist.

Bucky slowed the kiss, cupped his free hand around the back of Steve's neck, toying with the soft hairs. He knew he had to have the biggest grin on his face when they finally parted for much needed oxygen, but he really couldn't find it in himself to stop. "So...that was pretty cool."

Steve huffed out a laugh and dropped his forehead to Bucky's. "Definitely didn't suck."

"And totally beats what I was planning on doing later tonight." He reached over the side of the bed to grab a towel, and half-heartedly tossed it in the laundry basket when he was done cleaning their hands and stomachs.

"What were you planning on doing?" Steve asked, rolling to Bucky's side and throwing one leg over Bucky's like he was afraid Bucky was planning on ever moving from the bed again.

"Hanging out at the party until I'd satisfied Peggy's weird sense of being social, then booking it to the lab to work on a few things."

Steve shook his head. "We have really got to work on getting you out more."

"We do, huh?" he teased, lazily stretching. 

"Yep," Steve answered softly, then dropped his head for a softer kiss. He really did have the most fantastic lips. "Unless doing lab work really is your idea of a good time on a Saturday night."

"Sometimes it is," Bucky admitted, with a shrug. "Is that gonna get me kicked out of your club?"

Steve's smile was dimpled and adorably impish. "Nah, I'll just keep showing up with my tablet and keep you company until you come up for air or you look like you need a distraction."

"Distraction, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?"

"Well, it works, right?" Steve asked, and brushed his lips in a gentle caress against Bucky's. "Besides, sucking you off in the lab has become something of a kink."

Bucky wrapped an arm around Steve's back to pull him even closer. "Well, I can't say that I mind it," he said. "And, uh, same. I mean, just so you know."

Steve just kissed him in reply.

***


	10. Chapter 10

"Hey guys." Bucky waved to the group as he set his backpack on the table and dropped into his seat. 

Sam held out his fist for a bump, but didn't look up from his laptop. Wanda and Peggy waved from where they were hunched over Peggy's phone, watching something or another, Bucky couldn't see exactly what. Tony didn't even bother to look up from the well-worn book he was thumbing through, but he also had his earbuds in, so chances were he hadn't even noticed Bucky's arrival. And Rhodey nodded in response as his thumbs raced across his phone screen.

"Where's Steve?" Bucky asked, grabbing his lab reading for his Sedimentary Geology class.

Sam scoffed, but kept typing away. "Thought it was your day to watch him. I mean, isn't that your job?"

"Only if it's to watch his very cute little ass," Peggy chimed in, because tag-teaming with Sam to tease Bucky was her favorite sport.

"Yeah, I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," Bucky said, even though he could feel himself starting to blush. It wasn't like Peggy was wrong, really – Steve did had an exceptionally cute ass. It was on the small side, but it was perfectly rounded and filled his hands just right and _definitely_ fit his dick just right and – ugh, nope, he needed to stop before Peggy's smirk got even more insufferable.

"You really are about as transparent as glass, you know," she said, like she knew exactly what he'd been thinking (and, well, it was Peggy, so she probably did).

"Eh, leave him be, getting well laid has made him not as uptight," Wanda said, expertly twisting her hair into a bun. "It's sweet."

Bucky frowned. "Rude." He wasn't even going to _ask_ how getting laid on the regular was sweet.

"Hey, if the shoe fits," Sam said. "I mean, I love you and all, but Rhodey is more adventurous than you, and his idea of a fun night is getting pizza, then ignoring it to make out on the sofa."

"So you're saying he's no Netflix, all chill?" Peggy asked, looking very pleased with herself at the joke. Which, it was kinda funny, Bucky would give her that one, even though he shouldn't encourage her, because it always came back to haunt him later.

Rhodey made a face at Sam. "Never heard you complaining about either one, so I'm not sure you've got a leg to stand on, babe."

"Well, that depends on the pizza," Tony chimed in, finally looking up from his book.

Rhodey was already shaking his head before Tony even finished speaking. "No, Tone, we're not doing this, pineapple does _not_ belong anywhere near pizza –"

"Bruce and I beg to differ –"

"Which is why you two are on your own during lab nights until you see the error of your ways."

"Wait, _that's_ why you're on the outs with Tony and Bruce on the project? Because you're fighting over _pizza_?" Wanda asked, cupping her chin in her hand as she peered around Peggy to look at Rhodey. "Seriously?"

Rhodey shrugged. "It's gross, man, I don't want to be anywhere near it. And you'd _think_ my best damn friend would remember that."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Sam's ass is also gross and yet that doesn't stop you from eating – ow, what the fuck!" he exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head where Rhodey'd smacked him.

Rhodey just glared at him out of cool eyes. "You deserved that."

"Also, my ass is delicious," Sam declared, with a sunny grin, as everyone at the table groaned.

Bucky thunked his forehead on the table. "Y'all are all the fucking worst," he mumbled. He really did need better friends. And possibly a new study group.

Then he felt light fingers running through his hair, and sank into it even before he heard Steve say: "Do I even want to know what you guys've done to Buck?"

"Just traumatized him for life, like always," Peggy promptly replied.

"He needs more traumatizing," Sam added. "It's good for him and his growth as a person."

Bucky lifted his head as Steve took his usual seat and scooted as close as humanly possible to Bucky's side. "I am going to make it a point to get myself some new BFFs when I'm at grad school."

"No, you won't," Sam replied, confidently.

Steve wrapped an arm around Bucky's shoulders and pulled him close to place a kiss to his temple. "You want me to beat him up for you?"

Bucky relaxed into the embrace, even as he grinned at the mental image of Steve going toe to toe with Sam to defend Bucky's honor. It was...surprisingly hot. But, then again, maybe not that surprisingly, considering watching Steve take on bullies back in high school had also turned him on. Maybe he just had a thing for knights in shining armor, especially when said knights were of the slender yet fierce as fuck variety.

"Nah," he said, nuzzling just under Steve's jaw, "Rhodey would just take Sam's side and Tony would take Rhodey's side and Peggy and Wanda would just sit back to watch the chaos –"

"Accurate," Wanda said, over Peggy's peal of laughter.

"You can't replace me anyway," Sam said, relaxing against his seat. "I mean, you do owe me for life for not kicking your ass for banging my sister –"

"Oh, for the love of Christ..." Bucky muttered. One day – but not today, apparently – he was going to live that down. Of course, one day, Sam would stop bringing it up into conversation, but it would probably be when they were both ninety and had dementia. "I had sex with your sister _once_ , and we were both half-drunk." 

And was one of the main reasons Bucky decided he and alcohol weren't a good mix, and why he wasn't cut out for one-night stands. But, then, that entire summer after high school graduation – after Steve had disappeared on him and everyone else – had been one he'd rather forget entirely. He'd made a lot of dumbass mistakes, and had done a lot of dumb, uncharacteristically reckless shit. Which, thankfully, he'd been smart enough not to tell Sam and Peggy about most of it.

Sam didn't look impressed. "Still, bro. Not cool."

"Hold on, you slept with Portia?" Steve asked, surprised.

Bucky flipped Sam off, just so he would know exactly where Bucky stood on the matter. "Once, and it's ancient history, and she and I both agreed to never talk about it, which _some_ people keep forgetting."

"You started it," Sam said, looking about as unrepentant as a person could get.

Bucky threw his hands up in the air. "Holy fuck, I did not, you did."

"Whatever, I'm just saying you owe me BFF status for life, is all."

"This is way more entertaining than studying for my quiz," Tony declared, with a bright grin.

Bucky knocked his forehead against the table again. "I hate every single one of you."

"Hold on, I didn't even do anything." Steve started stroking his back all slow and soothing, which, Bucky gave him about a year to stop. 

"Fine, you're excluded. I still like you best," he said, slumping over to rest his head on Steve's shoulder. Sure it was bony, but it still made for an excellent pillow. And Steve always smelled like this interesting mixture of paint oils and citrus from his shampoo. Bucky couldn't explain it, but he really dug the combination.

Peggy snorted as she shifted through the pile of snacks in the middle of the table to grab a bag of almond M&Ms. "Big surprise."

"Don't you start, too," Bucky warned her, but it didn't have too much heat behind it. 

"Gossiping about us, Buck?" Steve asked, still rubbing slow circles into Bucky's spine and turning him into some form of blissful goo. "Should I be worried?"

"What, no, it's just...they were being ridiculous earlier, that's all." Seriously, if painting didn't work out for Steve as a career, he could totally be a masseuse, no problem.

"Whatever," Sam said, "if anyone's being ridiculous, it's the two of – oh, hey, uh, hi Nat."

Bucky popped up like he was doing his best jack-in-the-box imitation, and twisted around in his seat. Sure enough, Nat was standing right beside their table, clutching her backpack strap with a white-knuckled grip, and a nervous smile on her face. "Hey, guys." She lifted her free hand in a wave to the group, then her gaze drifted to Bucky. "Hey."

"Hi," he answered, his own hand stuck in mid-air. The rest of the group was pretty much frozen in place, watching the potential burgeoning drama unfold in uncharacteristic silence, and Steve was tense and still beside him, and holy hell, this was the most awkward thing that had happened to Bucky in months. 

"I, uh..." Nat pointed at another full table and scuffed her boots along the linoleum. "I should probably let you guys get back to it...I mean, I just came by to say hi. So, hi, I guess."

Bucky wasn't sure if it was some residual well of protectiveness or maybe some tiny remnant of the love he used to have for her or what, but he couldn't just let her dig herself any deeper into her hole – the secondhand embarrassment alone was way too much to handle.

He scrambled up to his feet and shoved his hands into his pockets, pasting on what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "So, uh, you look good...I mean, it's good...to, y'know, see you, is what I mean." He was somewhat surprised to find he meant it too. He was glad to see her. And even more glad that he could look at her and only feel a tiny, muted echo of the hurt he'd felt when she'd dumped him.

Seemed like the old cliché about time healing all wounds was pretty accurate. Plus, well, it probably helped that he'd been pretty occupied the last few months with Steve. Score another point in favor of their arrangement.

"Yeah, you too," she said, voice wobbling like it used to when she was floundering and trying to put on a brave face. Her gaze flickered to everyone else, then she rounded her shoulders back like she was squaring up to go into battle. "Look, I just...I hate how we left things – how _I_ left things – and I'm not saying we need to be friends again, but, you know, if you wanted...I mean, it's up to you – but it'd be nice to talk sometime." 

"Look, it turns out you were right about us, so I'm not...it's cool. We're cool." He gestured to the group, who were still all pretending very hard like they weren't eavesdropping the hell out of the conversation like the drama queens they all were. "You wanna join us?" he asked. "Everyone's missed you. I mean, Tony'll probably try to play it off like he doesn't care –"

"Hey!"

''– but it hasn't been the same without you around," Bucky finished, lamely.

"You sure?" Nat dropped her voice to a whisper. "Because, uh, your, uh, boyfriend? Keeps glaring daggers at me and I kinda don't want to piss him off. I'm not here to, like, try to get you back or anything."

Wait, was she talking about Steve? Bucky wanted to turn to see what Nat was talking about, but that would be kinda weird, so he just shook his head. "What, no, he's not...I mean, we're not dating," he said. "It's not like that. I mean, between us, we're not..." 

Yeah, okay, he really needed to shut up, before he made things even more awkward. It wasn't like he owed Nat an explanation about how he'd been spending his time, or the nature of what he and Steve had between them. His personal life, and especially his sex life, wasn't anyone else's business, and definitely not Nat's.

"Oh, uh, okay," she said, just as Bucky heard the sound of a chair scraping across the floor, and Steve went barreling past both of them with his backpack, practically running towards the exit.

"Hey, what the...Steve! Steve, wait up, is everything –?" Bucky took a step after him – had something happened, was he sick? – but was pulled short by Sam yanking him back into place. 

"Don't, man." Sam looked angry, for some reason, his brows thunderous and mouth a thin, flat line across his face. "You've done enough damage already. I'll go talk to him."

"Done enough? _Damage_? What are you even...?" he started, but Sam was already walking towards the door like the rude-ass dickweed he was. Bucky threw his hands up in the air, and whirled back to the table, his conversation with Nat totally forgotten. "Does someone want to clue me in on what just happened?"

Peggy sighed and drew herself to her feet. "I think that's my cue," she said, and smiled at Nat. "Make yourself at home. This won't take long."

"Seriously, you guys sure about this?" Nat asked, hiking her bag higher on her shoulder. "I really don't want to cause any drama or anything."

Rhodey patted Sam's vacated seat. "Yeah, c'mon, it's fine. You can catch us up on what you've been doing while Peggy reads Bucky the riot act."

"Read me the riot act for _what_?" What the hell had he done? He was so fucking lost, man.

"Oh, for...come on already," Peggy said, taking Bucky's elbow to march him out the door and into the quad area. 

He jerked out of her hold the second they got to the grass. "What the total fuck, Pegs?"

She busied herself retying an already immaculately smooth ponytail, and then sighed – not one of her over-dramatic sighs, either, but a deeper one, like she was bone-weary and didn't care who knew. It reminded him a little too uncomfortably of the sighs his mom gave his dad sometimes when his dad was being especially obtuse. "You truly are clueless, aren't you?"

"Clueless about _what_?" Why was everyone suddenly acting like he'd committed some major crime? Was this about Nat? If they hadn't wanted her to stay, why invite her to sit with them? And what did that have to do with Steve running off like the room was on fire?

"Clueless about Steve," she said, patiently, completely derailing his train of thought. "And how very much _not_ fuck buddies this entire thing between the two of you has been from the start, and how maybe trying to shove your relationship back in that box to impress your ex wasn't your finest moment."

What the...was she even speaking English? Not fuck buddies? Impress his ex? _What_? "Yeah, so, I understood all of those words, like, separately?"

"For the love of..." She shook her head. "Your quote, booty call, unquote, would very much like to be your _actual_ boyfriend – something he's wanted since this whole business between you two started, I might add – and yet, you've missed every _single_ hint he's thrown your way, because if there's anyone on this planet more stubborn and myopic than Steve, it's you. Is that clear enough for you or shall I continue?"

Boyfriend? _Steve_ wanted to be his boyfriend? Steve wanted to be his _boyfriend_? That wasn't...no, that wasn't even...they weren't...Steve _hadn't_ hinted at...had he? 

Bucky inwardly cursed his flustered thoughts, tried to get them into some semblance of balance before opening his mouth again. "We're _not_ like that. Whatever it is you're all thinking, it's not. I mean, we're not, okay."

"Aren't you?" she asked, quietly. "You've been treating him as an actual boyfriend in everything except name pretty much from day one."

Bucky could feel the blood draining from his face. Oh God, what if Steve thought Bucky was trying to pressure him into something? "Are you saying that he thinks I'm trying to push him into a...because I'm not, I swear, I just...maybe I'm just not good at the whole booty call thing –"

Her brows rose to her hairline. "Love, we _all_ tried to warn you about that."

"Well, _you're_ the one that told me to go outside my comfort zone," he grumbled.

She poked his chest with a razor-sharp red nail. "I meant shaking up your routine a little and doing new things, not trying to have a purely sexual relationship with the person you've been in love with since our sophomore year of high school."

Whoa, whoa, whoa, that was...nope. _Nope_. "I'm not –" he started, but she jabbed his chest again.

"James Buchanan Barnes, _do_ not."

He opened his mouth to argue again, but snapped it shut. He wasn't. Was he? _Was_ he? Sure, he'd had a crush back in high school, and sure, he'd been pretty hurt when Steve had left, and maybe the last couple of months they'd been screwing around had been the happiest he'd been since the time he and Steve had first gotten together, but in love? He just...well. Uh.

He was happy with Steve. Even when they weren't having spectacular sex. Even when they were just cuddled together studying or hanging out watching YouTube vids or when Steve stayed the night and Bucky woke up with Steve plastered against him, pinning him in place like he was Steve's personal teddy bear. He loved watching Steve paint during their art class, loved watching the confident way his fingers held a brush or pencil, loved that intense look he got when he was deep into his creative zone, bringing his visions to bold life. He loved the way Steve laughed, low and rough-edged, loved the way Steve swaggered everywhere, confidence brimming from every pore, taking up way more space than he had a right to. He loved the way Steve had always stood up for what he believed in, and made no apologies about who he was.

Being with Steve made Bucky feel...effervescent. Alive. Aware of himself and his surroundings, tuned in to the world, everything just a little bit brighter. And, well, wasn't that was love was supposed to be? Finding the person who made the world shine?

Holy Christ, maybe he really was... _Huh_. 

"You know, I can almost see the light bulb going off over your head."

"But I'm...it was never...we were never... _fuck_." He sank cross-legged to the grass, boneless and stunned. In love. Since high school. _Fucking fuck_. How had that happened? "It was just supposed to be sex."

She sat next to him, and snagged his hand, easily lacing their fingers together. "When have you ever been the kind of person to sleep with someone without feelings getting involved?"

"Uh, never," he admitted, lowly. He was in love. Like, actually in love. With Steve. What the fuck did that say about his self-awareness that he'd failed to see the signs right in front of him? Suddenly, his wild behavior the summer after Steve disappeared made so much more sense. His behavior since Steve walked back into his life also made so much more sense. "You think he knows?"

"You'd have to ask him," Peggy told him. "Better yet, talk to him and tell him how you feel. Tell him you want more."

"It was...it was supposed to be like, I don't know, scientific. Purely physical." And hell, maybe that was all relationships were in the end – just science – but science didn't normally make his skin clammy or his heart flutter all weird or his breath catch. Only Steve did that. Only Steve had ever done that.

"Best laid plans of mice and men," Peggy quoted, and squeezed his hand. "You owe it to the both of you to pursue this and see where it might lead. The last thing I think you want is to wake up in twenty years and realize you threw away your shot at happiness."

He let out a small snort, a little bit of equilibrium restored. "Thank you, Lin-Manuel Miranda."

Peggy gave him a small smile. "I can be wise all on my own without Hamilton quotes, you know," she said, then nudged at his shoulder. "Now get up and go get your man."

Easier said than done, Bucky thought, but offered a wan smile in return. He was so very screwed.

***


	11. Chapter 11

He got to Steve's room in time to see Sam step out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him. When he saw Bucky, he paused, his hand still on the knob. "Peggy finally beat some sense into you?"

"Kinda," Bucky said. "More like I beat some sense into myself, but she helped." He gestured at the door. "So, uh, you gonna let me go in to talk to him or are you gonna stand guard all night? Or...does he even _want_ to talk to me?" 

What if Steve didn't want to see him? Or, what if Steve was waiting on some flowery speech that Bucky didn't have? Words really weren't his friends, like, at all, but he'd try. Steve was worth the risk of falling flat on his ass.

"God knows why, but yeah, he wants to see you." Sam reluctantly stepped to the side. "But, if you screw this up, bestie or not, I'll get _real_ creative about how I'm going to fuck up your life."

"I'll help you," Bucky promised, and gave Sam a one-armed hug before opening the door and stepping inside to confront his fate. 

Steve was standing at the other end of the room next to the desk, his arms crossed, gaze hard and so cold Bucky was surprised the temperature of the room hadn't dropping to freezing. It was a look he'd seen a thousand times, but it was normally directed at some moron mouthing off racist bullshit or some dudebro harassing a girl because he thought he was entitled to her time. Bucky'd never been the recipient of it, and it was already an experience he never wanted to repeat. He had no idea how someone so slight and unimposing-looking could radiate so much aggression and fuck-with-me-at-your-own-peril attitude. But that dichotomy was Steve all over.

He cleared a suddenly dry throat, and cupped the back of his neck. Steve didn't look much like someone who was suffering from some sort of heartache or like someone in love. He just looked super annoyed. "Hey, so, uh, I'll...uh...go if you want, but I just...I wanted to see if you wanted to talk?"

"If I wanted to talk? Really?" Steve's expression didn't shift by so much as an iota. "You sure it's not to tell me you're getting back with your ex?"

"What?? Oh my God, no, that's...yeah, no, that's never happening." Bucky wanted to wrap Steve in his arms and assure him that Steve was all he wanted, like, ever, but Steve wasn't exactly giving off come cuddle me vibes, and the last thing Bucky wanted to do was piss Steve off even more. "I swear, me and Nat...we're not...I mean. I don't want to get back with her. At all."

The ice seemed to melt just a fraction. "So, why are you here, then?"

"Uh, to talk? Like I said? If that's..." He motioned at Steve. "I mean, do _you_ want to talk?"

"Talk," Steve repeated, seemingly to himself. "Sure, that's...yeah, let's do that." He scrubbed a hand over his face, and straightened. Regal now, commanding, like a general inspecting his troops. Bucky fought the need to snap to attention.

"You want me to go first or –?"

"Can I be honest with you?" Steve interrupted, which, okay, what? 

"Yeah, of course." The reply was automatic, heartfelt. "I mean, we're still friends, right?" At the very least, he hoped they could still be friends at the end of the day, even if Steve didn't feel the same way about him. He'd spent too long without Steve in his life. 

"Friends, Jesus Christ, is that what...?" Steve laughed, high and sharp, nails screeching across a chalkboard. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure friendly is, like, the very last word I'd use to describe what we are. I've _never_ wanted a friend like I want you. Never thought about getting a _friend_ naked 24/7 and fantasizing about all of the ways I want to own them the way I do you."

Bucky's skin prickled, the hairs on his arms standing perfectly on end. Each word hammered against his pulse; his breath stuttered, stuck tight in his throat. He couldn't think of a single thing to say in response.

"All I want – all the time – is to strip you down and mark you up," Steve continued, his voice a low slither luring Bucky into his web, and now his gaze was blazing, scorching the space between them into ashes. "It's all I can do right now to not to press you to the mattress and take you apart until you're utterly pliant and utterly _mine_. Every _single_ minute of every single day, I want you either balls deep inside me or me balls deep inside you –"

"Holy _fuck_..." It was barely more than an exhale. He didn't think he could move if his life depended on it. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever been this turned on, and Steve wasn't even touching him. 

"You remember our first time?" Steve asked, finally moving to circle around Bucky's trembling body, close enough Bucky could feel the heat of him, but not close enough. Not _nearly_ close enough for what he wanted. "Remember how desperate we were for each other, the way you clung to me when I finally got my hands on you, those broken little moans you made when I stroked you off?"

Bucky could only make another small noise. This hadn't remotely been on his agenda for the night, and he had no idea where Steve was going with any of this, but he wasn't about to ask Steve to stop. Every synapse was firing in rapid succession, every nerve-ending perfectly attuned to Steve and his movements. 

" _Sì, bravo, così_..." Steve murmured, and stopped right in front of Bucky. He brushed Bucky's eyelids with his fingertips, gently closing them. "Are you good?"

"Y-yeah," Bucky lied. He wasn't good at all. He was something he didn't even have the words to name, something dark and dangerous and voracious, with an appetite that would swallow him whole if he let it. But he stayed rooted to the spot, a prisoner to Steve's voice, his words painting a portrait just as vivid as his drawings. He was desperate for whatever came next, another touch, another word. Whatever Steve wanted, Bucky wanted it, too.

"Kneel for me."

Bucky's throat closed so fast it took him two tries to even attempt words, the force of his want knocking the breath from his lungs. "Holy...Steve –"

" _Kneel_ for me."

He dropped clumsily to his knees, reacting on instinct to the authority in Steve's voice. Not that he thought he was capable of saying no to Steve, no matter what, which was...yeah, okay, terrifying, but also intoxicating. And this was, well, this was something they'd _never_ done, but maybe they'd been heading this direction all along and Bucky hadn't noticed that, either. Maybe he'd been oblivious about a lot of things. 

He stayed, poised in the crouching stillness, waiting, _wanting_ , the intensity unbearable, fire licking along his skin. After an interminable length of time, he felt Steve cradle the back of his neck, like Bucky was something rare and fragile. He sank into it, fell forward, drawn as if by gravity to nuzzle at Steve's inseam. This, at least, was familiar. And he knew, he knew, he _knew_ , Steve would never hurt him. Would never abuse the trust Bucky was placing in him.

"Do you feel me?" Steve asked, and Bucky gave a jerky nod. "You feel how hard I am for you?"

Bucky nodded again. "Y-yes." The heat coiled through him, crescendoing until he could feel the insistent beat in every breath. Almost of their own volition, his lips parted to moisten rough denim. 

"You want to suck me off, don't you?" Steve asked, and Bucky couldn't help the moan spilling out of him. He felt the heat of Steve's dick against his lips, pulsing and heavy, burning through the layers of fabric like they weren't even there. 

Steve stroked his fingers through Bucky's hair like Bucky was a cherished pet, and yeah, that was...unexpected. And...okay, yeah, a thing he was totally into now, holy hell. "I can't hear you."

"I want to suck you," he replied, and nuzzled in, pressing another open-mouthed kiss to Steve's length through the denim. He wanted Steve's taste on his tongue, wanted to lick and tease and devour, wanted Steve's cock choking him, owning him. 

" _Sì,_perfetto _, Dio! sei così fottutamente bello_," Steve purred, the rough cadence of his voice the perfect counter-beat to Bucky's heart. He sounded far away, a god bestowing favor, and the _idea_ of kneeling before him like an abject worshiper was going right to the top of Bucky's mental spank bank for life. " _Passerei la vita intera a farti godere come in questo istante. Sei tutto quello che voglio, tutto quello che ho sempre voluto_."

Bucky whimpered in protest when Steve stepped back, taking all of his heat and promise with him. "Please…" The word sounded like it was coming from somewhere outside his body.

"Fuck, come up here already." Those gentle, yet firm, hands helped him back into a standing position, and soft lips imprinted themselves across Bucky's in a fleeting caress, fevered and sweet and gone far too quickly. "You can open your eyes now."

Bucky shakily obeyed, and surged forward, stumbling in his haste to get to Steve. "Please," he repeated, grabbing Steve's ass to haul him bodily off his feet, pride cast by the wayside, unimportant to the inferno raging inside him. He didn't stop moving until Steve was sitting on the desk and Bucky was between the vee of his legs, the perfect height for Bucky to claim his lips in a hungry, hard kiss. His need was a ravenous beast who only wanted to conquer, howling in triumph when Steve clutched at Bucky's shoulders and returned the kiss, his teeth sinking into Bucky's lower lip, the sting of it sharp and perfect. 

They were both panting when Steve drew back. "I swear, you have no idea what you do to me," he said, twining his arms around Bucky's neck as he brushed their lips together again, soft and far too chaste for what Bucky wanted. "You sound so fucking pretty when you're begging for my cock."

"Is that what you want? Me to beg?" Because he would, he'd go right back to the carpet if that was what Steve wanted. He could _show_ Steve how much he loved him if that was what it would take. Which would actually be preferable to the whole talking thing.

"No, see, that's just it...that's...that's the _point_." Steve lowered his head to Bucky's shoulder, his next words muffled. "I never _wanted_ to want any of this as much as I did."

Bucky frowned, confused. Maybe he was just all lust-addled or whatever, but Steve wasn't making any sense. Of course, it didn't help that he was so hard he could barely think straight. "Wanted what? What are you talking about?"

Steve's sigh seemed to shudder through the both of them. "You were supposed to stop me."

"Like, just now?" Bucky asked, gesturing vaguely at them and the floor. "You're...I hope you're kidding, that was the...I never knew you could, uh, be so intense and...that I'd...that I'd _like_ it –" God, he was explaining himself all wrong, but Steve was still far too close for rational thinking, so it was all his fault, really.

"I liked it, too," Steve confessed, but he didn't sound too happy about it. And he was far too stiff and still in Bucky's arms, which, maybe Bucky'd fucked up somewhere. And if this was Steve's way of trying to let Bucky down easy or something, he was seriously going to find that cave or mountain cabin and never speak to anyone ever again. Provided he didn't die of blue balls in the next ten minutes, because his dick didn't seem to give a shit that the rest of Bucky was having a minor freakout. Typical.

"Steve?" he asked, when Steve stayed silent. "Please, just talk to me, okay. Tell me how I can fix it." No matter how terrible it was, at least he'd know.

" _You_ don't have to fix anything, it's me, okay." When Steve lifted his head again, his look was troubled. "You want to know why I disappeared after grad like I did?" he asked, quietly. "Why I never got in touch with anyone or let anyone know where I was or what I was doing? It was cowardice. Pure fucking cowardice."

"What?" Yeah, okay, Bucky was officially lost. First off, he was still having problems concentrating what with all the blood still pooled in his groin, so maybe he'd missed something through the roaring in his ears, and second, Steve was the ballsiest person Bucky'd ever met in his life. Cowardly would be the _very_ last word Bucky would choose to describe him.

"That month – the month we were together senior year – it was a literal dream come true." This close, Bucky could see the fine lines of tension around Steve's mouth, and he wanted so badly to kiss them away, but he stayed still and listened. Steve had clearly been carrying this weight for awhile. 

"And after that first time," Steve continued, "it was like this...this floodgate opened, y'know? You were all I could think about, all I could focus on. The taste of your skin, the feel of your body, how well we fit together, the way you kissed me like I _mattered_..." Steve's adam's apple bobbed as his sad smile trembled around the edges. "I was crazy obsessed, like…it was some weird craving, I mean, I couldn't get enough of you... And I kept wanting to push, y'know, just to see how much you'd take –"

"A lot, apparently." Steve ordering him to his knees was a thing now, which, well, Bucky could think of way weirder kinks.

"Yeah," Steve agreed, quietly. "That you _did_ that for me, Buck, you have no idea how much I loved it –" 

"Yeah, no, my mouth was right on your dick, I know exactly how much you loved it," Bucky said, with a pointed glance down. "But, hey, I was right there with you," he admitted, brushing baby-fine strands of hair out of Steve's face. "And maybe I wasn't as open about it or whatever back in high school, but I'm surprised I passed any of my finals back then, to be honest. All I wanted was for the school day to be over so I could be with you again and get my hands and mouth on you...to be inside you or have you inside me. But...we were teenagers, I mean...like, we were full up on hormones and drama. It wasn't like...I dunno –" He huffed a small laugh "– anyone was proposing marriage or anything."

He'd meant it as a joke to cut through some of the heavy weight in the air, but, far from looking pleased, Steve just let out his own mirthless laugh. "Yeah, you don't _get_ it. I knew you were it the second I met you. Like, the big L or my soulmate or The One, whatever you want to call it. I knew you were _that_ person for me when we were fourteen."

"Uh...oh." The entire track of Bucky's life was thrown off course in a heartbeat, every single assumption he'd ever had about Steve, himself, like, _everything_ ever, completely rearranged in a brand new display. Talk about the proverbial ice bucket right to the balls. All of a sudden, Bucky'd never been more sober or aware in his life. "But you...you _left_."

"I know, and I'm sorry, it was stupid, _I_ was stupid for ever letting you go." Steve gave him a tired smile. "And once I, I dunno, figured my shit out, I couldn't get back to you fast enough. It's why I enrolled. Because you were here."

"You... _what_?" Bucky knew he had to sound like a broken record, but seriously, _what_. Had he hit his head? Was he dreaming? Was he in some sort of weird funky parallel universe where up was down and black was white and someone like Steve Rogers apparently came to Athens _just_ to be near Bucky?

"Look, college it's not...I don't need a degree or any of that. I've spent the last few years traveling the world and learning from different artists and painting my ass off and making a pretty good living. A _very_ good living, if I'm honest about it," Steve amended, with a bashful shrug that still managed to convey his pride in his work. "That's where I am most weekends. Selling my paintings or displaying them somewhere. But _you_ were here, and I needed an excuse to be around you, and enrolling seemed like the best plan to at least be around without it being creepy and weird."

Holy _shit_. That was just...holy shit. Bucky wasn't sure if that was the most romantic thing he'd ever heard or the craziest or some weird hybrid of the two. "You...enrolled for me? You paid for...housing and classes and books and...for _me_?" he asked, pointing at himself. "Are you seriously serious right now?"

"I didn't know how else to strike up a conversation," Steve replied. "I mean, three years of no contact, right, I thought –"

"Jesus _Christ_ , you're a bigger drama queen than Peggy." Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, and tried to reconcile every crazy revelation from the last ten minutes in his head. He maybe needed a week just to decompress and deal with all of the physical and emotional whiplash. "You didn't have to...I mean, you could have just picked up the damn phone and called me or, I dunno, hit me up on Instagram or Facebook or _something_."

" _Now_ you tell me," Steve lamented, with a self-deprecating smile.

Bucky didn't return it. Irritation bubbled to the surface – at Steve for being an idiot who thought running away would solve anything, and himself for being too much of a chickenshit for even _attempting_ to find Steve to get some answers, and both of them for not having the faintest idea how to communicate. All this time, they could have been together and happy and having super great sex and making plans for their future. "I _am_ telling you," he said, allowing the annoyance to bleed through. "I can't fucking believe you ran away for over _three_ fucking years because you couldn't handle your feelings like a goddamn adult."

"Yeah, you can."

"Okay, fine, maybe I can, but –"

Steve cut him off with a soft kiss that somehow blunted his ire and sent it scurrying back to the shadows. "I am sorry, Buck. I'm so sorry, you will never know how sorry I am," he said, placing a kiss to each of Bucky's eyelids, each declaration a flutter that still somehow wormed their way into Bucky's heart and filled the crevasses Steve's disappearance had left behind. "I know I fucked up and I'll always regret that, because the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you or make you feel like you weren't the most important person in the world to me."

Bucky sank into the caresses, let the words settle until they were cemented deep inside him. Maybe they had wasted too much time being stupid, but they were here now, right? Didn't that count? "I forgave you already, remember," he replied, and leaned in for another kiss, this one longer, and so sweet that it stroked the banked flames of Bucky's need right back to life.

Steve rubbed his hands along Bucky's arms, his eyes clearer now. "So...are we good?" 

"I guess that depends on what you want to happen next." Like, he had a pretty damn good idea about what Steve actually wanted, but he was done assuming, and he figured they both maybe needed some practice in using their words.

And Steve, his awesome, amazing, courageous Steve, wasted literally no time in using them. "I think we should date. Full-on, no restrictions, you're my boyfriend, I'm your boyfriend...we give this thing between us a real shot." He peered up at Bucky through those ridiculously long eyelashes. "What do you think?"

Bucky thought he had finals and then grad school and then a great career as long as he kept on the path he'd started. He had ambitions and plans, and so much was riding on these next few months and years. All of his hard work and sacrifice and late nights and extra credits and summers spent in the field instead of having fun with his friends.

And, sure, he still wanted all of those things – wanted to write papers that would get his name noticed, and make game-changing discoveries that would advance his field. But he wanted to have all of that with the only person who'd ever managed to drag him out of his shell for more than five minutes at a time. The only person who had ever helped him see the world in a new light, and who reminded him that he had needs and desires that went beyond the academic.

He knew exactly where he wanted to be in five years' time, and ten, and twenty, and the person he wanted to share all of those years with.

"I think..." He paused, weighing each word carefully, knowing Steve deserved his honesty, too. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I've been in love with you since I was about sixteen or so" – and wow, it felt good to actually say it – "so if this is something you're serious about, then I'm all in."

Steve broke into the most radiant smile Bucky had ever seen. Maybe the most radiant smile in the history of the world. "Wait, you...since you were sixteen? Really?"

"Surprise." Bucky offered his own rueful smile. "Guess you weren't the only one dealing with all the feelings ever. And, look, maybe that time apart was good for us, and _not_ the worst thing ever, and maybe you did do a stupidly dramatic thing by just bailing like that, but it wasn't like I was much better about dealing with...everything else. So maybe what I'm trying to say is, you're it for me, too."

In answer, Steve started raining kisses all over his face, his arms a steel band around Bucky's waist like he was afraid Bucky would move. (Which, Bucky could have told him wasn't ever happening.) " _Ti amo, ti amerò sempre...voglio passare il resto della mia vita rendendoti felice_ –"

Bucky captured his lips, opened them with a bold sweep of his tongue, and reveled in Steve's surprised, needy moan. He had no idea what Steve just said, and really wanted him to repeat it in English at some point, but right now, he had higher priorities, and that was getting them both naked and having the sort of amazing I-Love-You sex that they'd remember decades from now. The heady, sweet tension from earlier snapped back into place, zinged through him with an audible pop, insatiable and heated as they tugged at each other shirts, impatient hands yanking until they were both bare-chested and slotted back together, skin gloriously sliding on skin. 

Steve framed Bucky's head to hold him happily in place, a willing prisoner to the hard press of Steve's lips, the insistent slide of his tongue, the soft rasp of stubble on his chin. Love, need, desire, lust – Bucky could taste them all, _needed_ them all, wanted to gorge himself and feast on each moan. Steve was in his arms, writhing and restless for his touch, and for the first time since Bucky walked through the door, everything made perfect sense again.

"Steve..." he breathed, just to hear the sound, to taste the way it sounded on his tongue. "Steve...Steve, my Steve..."

"Yours, yes," Steve agreed, pulling back in for another kiss, then another after that. "Yours, only yours, Buck, always..."

Always had a pretty goddamn good ring to it. Bucky slid a hand between them, popped the button of Steve's jeans, the rasp of the zipper teeth loud in the cramped space, then pushed them down those slim hips. He curled his fingers around Steve's cock, the silken heat a perfect fit, and smiled into the next kiss when Steve thrust, impatient as always, against his palm. "Know what I want right now?"

"I hope it's, ah, the same thing I want," Steve said, eyes brilliantly bright as he watched Bucky through half-closed lids, and honestly, was it any wonder Bucky'd carried a torch for him since high school? That he'd been in love with him for so long?

"I want to suck your dick until you're so close to the edge you can't see straight," Bucky said, whispering the words into Steve's ear, his hand moving in a steady, assured rhythm. "And then I want you to bend me over this desk and fuck me until neither of us can stand."

"Okay, wow, uh... _definitely_ digging this side of you," Steve groaned, lifting his hips to meet Bucky's fist. 

"Hey, you're not the only one who can be bossy as fuck, you know." Bucky bit gently on Steve's earlobe, and sped up, watching with greedy eyes as Steve finally surrendered to what Bucky was doing. And knowing that he was the reason for it, that Steve trusted him enough to open himself like that, was one of the most beautiful things Bucky had seen in his entire life. Whoever it was that said love made the sex that much better clearly knew what they were talking about, because every atom of Bucky's body felt on the verge of going nuclear from pure joy. From the need to _give_ that joy right back to Steve, in the best way he knew how.

He dropped gracelessly to kneel at Steve's feet, his gaze traveling up the beautiful, thick curve of Steve's erection. Way too much temptation to resist, especially after the way Steve had teased him with it earlier, so he didn't even bother trying. He slid his tongue along the head, curling in the slit, already slick with pre-come, then relaxed his throat, taking Steve deep, inch by slow inch, and this was... _yes_ , exactly what he wanted. All of that taut, smooth skin under his power, the heady flavor overriding every other taste. Every bit of Steve's body his to explore and take, just as much as he was Steve's.

"Yeah, really liking...this, uh, side of...ah, _fuck_..." Steve moaned, and dropped his chin to his chest as he buried his hands in Bucky's hair. Was there a more erotic view in the world than Steve lost in the pleasure that only Bucky could give him? A more erotic feeling than knowing _he_ was the one making Steve forget how to form words?

He curled his fist around the base, and moved, lips stretched wide as he met his fingers halfway. He flattened his tongue along the shaft, each glide obscenely wet and sticky, and the spit made his fingers glompy and tacky as hell, but he used it to tighten his hold, rotated his wrist again and again. Hummed his pleasure, soft animal noises thrumming from him to Steve and then back again.

"Fuck _fuck_ fuck," Steve panted, a continuous litany of desperation, as he braced his legs apart, the muscles in his thighs trembling under Bucky's touch, as Bucky slid his other hand up to cup Steve's sac, toying with his balls, the heavy, warm weight fitting his palm just right. 

" _Dein Mund... Gott, dein Mund... ja, genau so, ich gehöre dir..._ " Steve clawed at Bucky's hair, slamming forward, whatever restraint he'd had vanishing. "Ah, fuck, _Ich kann nicht..._"

Bucky made a choked whimpering sound, gagging on the head for a split second before angling his throat just so, hollowing his cheeks to get even more suction. He was painfully hard, so close to nutting in his jeans like he was thirteen all over again, but he couldn't spare the energy to drop one of his hands to try to take care of the problem. Steve's pleasure was all that mattered, the only thing he wanted, the – 

"Buck, you gotta...c'mon..." Steve grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked, sharp enough to get Bucky's attention.

He popped off of Steve's cock with an annoyed sound, and looked up to find Steve staring down at him like Bucky'd invented chili cheese fries and possibly energy drinks. "What?" he asked, torn between wanting to bask in that look for maybe the rest of the decade and also wanting to put his lips right back around Steve's dick and finish what he'd started.

"I, uh, God, you're making it hard to...I thought" – he gestured vaguely down at Bucky – "you wanted me to, uh, bend you over the desk and fuck you."

Which, okay, _yeah_ , he did want that – really fucking badly – but he also wanted Steve to come down his throat, too. Talk about the best sort of dilemma. "Well...what, uh, do you want?"

"Honestly?" Steve's laugh was low and dirty, a serpentine sound that spiraled along Bucky's spine. Then he pulled Bucky to his feet before slanting his lips over Bucky's in a hard, bruising kiss. "I want to work over every inch of you, then spend a year prepping you until you're begging me to fuck you, then do just that nice and slow for the year or two after that," he said, all but growling out the words. "But I'm also pretty sure if I don't get inside you in the next ten seconds, I might actually die."

"Jesus, Steve..." Okay, yeah, forget high brain power or trying to make a decision or anything else. And fuck it, he could always blow Steve later on in the shower or something, or maybe in the morning when they were both still drowsy and didn't mind taking things a little slower.

"I want to have you _every_ way there is to have someone." Steve nibbled along Bucky's bare shoulder. "Wanna mark you as mine, so everyone knows who you belong to –"

"So do it."

Steve's eyes were bright, his lips bruised, and his entire body lit up from within, the best fireworks on the planet. "You serious?" he asked, like he couldn't quite believe it.

"Totally serious." He'd never meant anything more. "Mark me up. _Make_ me yours."

Steve needed no further invitation. He seemed to loom over Bucky, the brightness radiating from him making him seem at least a foot larger, and twice as wide. It was crazy scary and wild, but at the same time, Bucky'd never felt safer or more cherished. Then Steve leaned in, teeth raking at the juncture of Bucky's neck and shoulder, and Bucky moaned and arched against him, shivered and twisted. All he could hear was his pulse thundering in his ears, his breath scraping through his lungs. He wanted to beg, but he was afraid that if he tried to speak, nothing would come out. So he pleaded with his body instead, ran avaricious hands along Steve's sweat-slick back, groaned wordlessly with every sharp bite.

"Utterly fucking flawless," Steve crooned, and the words sounded as though they were spoken through a tunnel; indistinct, unimportant. Bucky heard the harsh rasp of a zipper, then felt Steve's hands on him, finally on him, sliding slick and smooth and steady along his length.

"Love you, God, I love you..." He breathed the words between them, savoring the way they felt, the power of it rushing through him, a long swan dive off a cliff into a clear spring.

Steve brushed Bucky's hair back from his forehead with his free hand, his touch a gentle contrast to the tight curl of the fist around his cock. " _Ich liebe dich so sehr_ ," he whispered. " _Ti amerò sempre_. I love you, Bucky, I love you, I _love_ you" – and holy fuck, finally hearing Steve say it was like maybe the single best moment of Bucky's entire life – "and I really hope you're prepared for what that means, because you're stuck with me forever now."

Stuck with Steve forever. Sounded like Bucky's idea of heaven. "I can think of worse fates," he replied, and allowed Steve to push him back towards the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Sì, perfetto, Dio! sei così fottutamente bello_ \- "Yeah, that's perfect, God, you're fucking beautiful"
> 
>  _"Passerei la vita intera a farti godere come in questo istante. Sei tutto quello che voglio, tutto quello che ho sempre voluto"_ \- "I'd spend my entire life making you feel pleasure like in this moment. You're all I want, you're all I've ever wanted."
> 
>  _"Ti amo, ti amerò sempre...voglio passare il resto della mia vita rendendoti felice"_ \- "I love you, I will always love you, I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy"
> 
>  _Dein Mund... Gott, dein Mund... ja, genau so, ich gehöre dir..."_ \- "Your mouth... God, your mouth... yes, like that, I belong to you..."
> 
>  _"Ich liebe dich so sehr"_ \- "I love you so much"
> 
>  _Ti amerò sempre"_ \- "I will always love you"

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Boop](https://boopifer.tumblr.com/) for going over pacing with me and listening to me whine about writing All The Sex Ever, and to [Steph](https://stephrc79.tumblr.com/) for the amazing beta. Any remaining mistakes are on me.
> 
> All Italian translations in the story are courtesy of the lovely [Koubashii](http://koubashii.tumblr.com/), and all German translations are courtesy of the equally lovely [MissPaperJoker](https://misspaperjoker.tumblr.com/).
> 
> All of the science-y geek talk is courtesy of [Ignipes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ignipes/pseuds/ignipes), who actually has a Doctorate in the subject, unlike me. :D
> 
> You can now find me on [Tumblr](https://brendaonao3.tumblr.com/). :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Lessons In Chemistry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11873436) by [Brenda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda), [SulaSafeRoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SulaSafeRoom/pseuds/SulaSafeRoom)




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